


Brightest in the Dark

by RipVanWinkle



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, AtLA AU, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Dark Keith (Voltron), Dark Lance (Voltron), Dark Shiro (Voltron), Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, Firebender Keith (Voltron), Firebender Shiro (Voltron), Human Experimentation, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, M/M, Multi, Past Gang Violence, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Post-Betrayal, Prison Breaks, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Racism, Radical Nationalism, Sexual Harassment, Waterbender Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 65,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipVanWinkle/pseuds/RipVanWinkle
Summary: It's a dangerous thing, to be the only waterbender in a prison full of Fire Nation radicals. Warden Lotor tells Lance first day to hide it and hide it damn well. Those firebenders would kill to make a proud Northern Water Tribe brat their bitch.Luckily for Lance, there are two familiar faces who would sooner take on the entire general population than let that happen.Unluckilyfor Lance, they have quite the bone to pick with him, and he's still in love with them through it all.Shiro and Keith never hoped they would see Lance McClain again, not after the waterbender betrayed them and left them for dead. Serving life sentences thanks to him, they've had plenty of time to build burning resentment.Well, they wouldn't call the possessive and lovelorn feelings they harbor 'resentment' exactly.He escaped their grasps before. Now he's stuck with hundreds of bloodthirsty firebenders in a big concrete box with only them to turn to for protection.They won't let him go so easily this time.





	1. Smile at the chance just to see you again

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set BEFORE the end of the war in Avatar. No chapter in this fic will be over 5k, I am trying a new format.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Well I hope you try and find me_  
>  _I'm most tired of pacing._  
>  \- Foster the People, _Miss You_

“Heard we’re getting a new batch of fish this afternoon.” 

Shiro glances up from a novel with a worn out spine. The pages are a bit charred, too, but everything’s like that here- a bit charred. It’s not like the monarchy is going to put out money just for some new books and furniture for some backwater prison. His good friend Thace stands in the open doorway to his cell, face stoic and cold as ever. Shiro shrugs, disinterested, “They won’t cause trouble.”

Thace hums noncommittally as he takes a seat in an rickety stool Keith stole from the library, resting his back against the metal wall. Shiro returns to his story. That’s all there really is to do here. Read the same adventure series over and over again, terrorize new inmates when they arrive, shit, eat, and sleep. When you hardly get to eat or sleep some days it makes for a mind numbing combination. They don’t have to much to complain about, though. The Warden is fair, the guards mind their own business until cases of violence, and the food ain’t too bad. Shiro and Keith lucked out when they got assigned to Bouldergate Penitentiary.

A few quiet seconds pass them by, only the distant busy buzz of gen pop filling their ears, before Thace breaks it again. He informs Shiro, “Heard rumor that there might be a waterbender among them.”

Shiro closes his book and sits up in his bunk. He isn’t stupid enough, contrary to his beefhead appearance, to think that  _ he _ could be in the newest cycle. Keith, however...he follows his emotions brainlessly. He frowns at his friend, “Has Keith heard these rumors?”

_ It would be stupid to send a waterbender here anyways, unless whoever dealt with their paperwork REALLY hated their ass.  _

Thace’s face doesn’t change but Shiro’s been buddies with him long enough to know when he’s amused. His tone gets bit lighter, his eyes brighten ever so, “Pretty sure he has, seeing how he’s been pacing the fence ever since lunch.”

_ So that’s where he’s been.  _ Shiro contemplates with a heavy sigh. He jumps down from the top bunk, landing soundlessly on his bare toes. He gestures to have Thace tag along, “Wanna help me beat some sense into him?”

The older man shakes his head but stands, intending to leave Shiro and Keith’s shared cell, “No.”

Shiro shrugs again, “Suit yourself.” He taps Thace’s shoulder good naturedly with his metal arm as he passes by, “See you at dinner?”

Thace nods and wanders away without another word, heading deeper into the cell block. Probably to find Ulaz for a quickie in the showers. Shiro makes his way down the stairs leading from his floor down to the main area. It’s nearing 1400 hours, still too early for new inmates to arrive. If Keith really is hanging out by the fence in the yard then he’s going to be waiting awhile. 

The other inmates generally give Shiro a wide berth as he passes, intent on avoiding the firebender in hopes he won’t notice them. He never does. They hold no interest to him and haven’t done anything worthy of one of his infamous ass kickings, so he doesn’t even spare them a passing glance. Nevertheless, his presence still sparks uneasiness and awe into those he comes across. Keith’s says it’s his vicious glare and ‘chiseled’ body that scares them the most but Shiro more thinks it’s to do with the ugly scars and the dangerous weapon of a prosthetic right arm. He appreciates Keith’s obvious adoration for his looks, though.

_ “Your broad shoulders and resting bitch face would intimidate me too, if I wasn’t already fucking you.” _

Shiro nibbles on the inside of his bottom lip. He worries about Keith a lot, too much to be healthy. He sometimes jokingly blames his streak of stark white in the forefront of his black hair on the younger man. When Keith focuses his attention on something it is hardly ever easy to get him to forget about it. His fixation on the past is no different. Hence why he is obsessively at the fence today and why Shiro will have an uphill battle to fight if he wishes to convince Keith to come away from it. 

He walks through the open doors to the yard and immediately spots the slouched, angry form of his boyfriend. Next to him stands the tinier Katie Holt (known strictly as Pidge if you liked your balls attached to your body), Keith’s only friend besides Hunk Garrett and Shiro in the whole prison. Probably the whole world, too. Keith wasn’t exactly easy to approach when outside of these stone walls either. 

As Shiro draws nearer, Pidge shoots him a frustrated look. Obviously she had been trying to get Keith to stop brooding too, a completely fruitless mission for anyone but Shiro. Well, sometimes Hunk can convince him with promises of smuggled goodies waiting in his cell but that’s a rare occurrence. Hunk has a business he has to maintain, he can’t afford to give merchandise out for free even to his good friends. Shiro smiles at the young girl and claps her on the shoulder, making sure to be more gentle than he would with the others. He has a huge soft spot for her and she exploits it as much as she possibly can, the little jerk.

When Pidge first arrived a year ago, Shiro suddenly got a visitor. Him nor Keith hadn’t gotten or expected any visitors, so imagine his surprise when Matthew Holt showed up. Matt is an old buddy of Shiro’s from their army days and someone he still holds in high esteem. He requested one simple thing of Shiro, nothing too major.

_ “Protect Katie. Please.” _

And since then, every sorry piece of shit in Bouldergate knew that Pidge was off limits. Shiro and Keith’s obvious fondness of her is only half of what keeps them away. The little spitfire is devious and genius enough to scare any halfwit straight to death. It doesn’t matter that she’s a nonbender, either. That didn’t stop her brother from fucking shit up and it doesn’t stop her now either. 

“Keith.” 

Keith jerks his shoulders in greeting, staying silent, which is the best Shiro’s going to get. He sighs and cocks his chin at Pidge, “I’ll deal with it, Pidge. Why don’t you go help Hunk.”

It’s an unspoken rule that Shiro is the only one who can order any of them around. Pidge nods, glares with thinly veiled concern Keith’s way, and then scampers off to do God knows what. Certainly not to help Hunk like Shiro asked.

Shiro gazes out through the thick metal fence. It would be so easy to melt, given time, but he ignores the stubborn itch. A few feet beyond the fence line is the entrance to the prison, a huge set of titanium plated doors. Impossible to melt or blow up with simple explosives or firebender power. The top is lined with a jungle of barbed wire that continues along the entirety of the prison’s outer walls. The walls themselves are smooth and slick so no one could think about scaling them. Using bending of any kind is a one way ticket to solitary, the coolers, or even the firing squad if the offense is severe enough. 

New inmates are walked past this fence to enter the actual prison itself so this is the best place to get a good seat at newbie watching. Many inmates, instigated by boredom or sadism, like to line the fence and call out to the new fish. The usual stuff; threats, sexual propositions, jeers, mocks, the like. 

Shiro and Keith don’t usually engage in it because they think it’s pointless. The fresh faces will realize soon enough that there’s a hierarchy and who not to fuck with. Pidge might watch the event but she never engages in it, she mainly looks for someone new to trick into doing some odd job for her. Hunk wants the new faces to trust him so you wouldn’t catch him dead there. He needs their new supply of money to supplement his smuggling ring. Normally he just gets his contact in the staff to tell him which new convict has the most cash, which one needs a friend, etc.. 

But this wave is different. A waterbender, sent to  _ this _ prison? Everyone knows all the supremacists get holed up here. Yup, gangsters (that would be Keith and Shiro), thieves (Pidge), smugglers (Hunk), and supremacists make up the general population of this prison. And if there’s one thing the Fire Nation supremacists hate, that’s  _ waterbenders.  _

Of course that would catch Keith’s eye but not for the reason one might think. Keith couldn’t give less of a shit about the Fire Nation, or the war, or any other nation for that matter. No, the reason he’s so damn interested is-

“What if  _ he’s _ coming?” Mutters Keith, arms crossed as he leans his shoulder into the chain links.

Shiro’s heart stutters at even the mention of  _ him.  _ It’s funny that even after two years he still feels such strong, perplexing emotions. He grunts, “What are the chances of that, Keith? Think clearly.”

Keith’s nose scrunches in frustration that the other finds adorable, “I know that it probably isn’t him, Shiro! But what if it  _ is? _ ”

Leaning beside him, Shiro tries to keep his voice vacant of the stupid hope, of the vengeful resentment, of the lorn of a love lost before it began, “Then it is. If it is him, then it is him. You standing out here like a jilted lover isn’t going to change anything that happened.”

“I  _ know _ that, Takashi!” Keith snaps, finally turning to glare hotly at him. Keith’s always been the more emotional of the two even if he doesn’t always show it properly. “I-I just-” He sets his jaw and grits his teeth, releasing a sharp breath through his flared nostrils. 

Shiro frowns sympathetically before reaching out to Keith, slowly gathering the shorter man into his arms and ignoring the brief, stubborn fight against the embrace. Keith can never deny Shiro too long and quickly relaxes into the hold, burying his burning face into Shiro’s muscular chest. Shiro caresses his hair with the smooth fingers of his prosthetic and murmurs, “I know, Keith. You’re still angry. I am, too.”

“‘M not just angry….” Keith says, voice muffled by Shiro’s skin and the jumpsuit covering it. He looks up at Shiro, brows furrowed tensely, “I still  _ want _ to see him.”

And damn, if Shiro doesn’t understand exactly where Keith is coming from. But still, he has to be the mature one or else no one will be in their little dynamic duo. He kisses the top of Keith’s head briefly, “Me too. But you need to stop this, Keith. It isn’t healthy.”

The expression on Keith’s face lets Shiro know that he’s right and Keith’s angry about it. The younger man tries to push away but is swiftly kept caged by Shiro’s iron grip. Used to it, Keith huffs angrily as he plants his hands defiantly on Shiro’s pectorals, “I’m not doing anything wrong! I’m just  _ watching- _ ”

“No, you’re obsessing, Keith.” Shiro reprimands firmly, his strict tone easily quieting Keith. They might consider each other equals in their relationship but Keith knows when to back off. “You think I don’t miss him? You think I don’t want to wring his scrawny little neck for what he did to us?”

“...and then kiss it all better….” Keith mutters, a hint of flirtatious humor in his voice. 

Shiro scoffs in amusement, “Yes, and then kiss it all better. But we won’t ever see him again, Keith.”

Keith bites his bottom lips and whispers, “If we stay in here we won’t….”

“Don’t.” 

Sucking in a startled breath at Shiro’s harsh demand, Keith narrows his eyes up at the man, pissed at the attitude. Shiro’s steel grey eyes mean business, however, so Keith bites his tongue. “You know Lotor has ears everywhere. I don’t want to see you in the coolers again.”

Keith nods but his face stays petulant. Shiro knows this won’t be the last he hears of this but files that away for the future. Keith will be smarter next time and won’t bring it up in the yard, of all places. 

“C’mon.” Shiro says, “Let’s go hit the gym.”

The younger firebender scowls at him and states resolutely, “I’m coming back here when they show up.”

Letting go of the other, Shiro shrugs, “Do whatever you want, I don’t care.” He determinedly ignores the gross swell of misplaced hope inside him and heads back inside to walk to the shitty gym on the other side of the prison. 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m Warden Lotor, welcome to Bouldergate Penitentiary, Mr. McClain.” Warden Lotor greets in an evenly professional tone as the young waterbender is forced to stand before his desk.

Lance stifles a yawn. These fucking cuffs itch like a  _ bitch, _ let him tell ya. He’s pretty sure his poor wrists have broken out in an angry rash. The huge window behind the Warden’s desk is so bright that he can’t really focus properly on him. Probably did it on purpose to give a kinda interrogation feeling, the total tool. “Thanks, Warden. Say, what kinda accent is that? Never heard that one even in the colonies.”

The Warden waves him off dismissively, “My accent is none of your concern. You have far bigger fish to fry, now don’t you? You are probably wondering why you were singled out among the other new inmates.”

Honestly, Lance was kind of freaking the fuck out about that but he doesn’t quite like this jerk’s face so he smirks, “I’m so hot you had to get a better look at me?”

Irritation flashes through Lotor’s icy blue eyes- no, seriously, these bitches are like chips of  _ ice, _ like a villian in a fuckin’ adventure novel or something-  before he schools his features into a pleasant smile that just almost charms even Lance. He has to admit it, the Warden sure is handsome, in a kind of vicious poisonous plant sort of way. 

“A sense of humor! Good, you’ll need it in my prison.” The Warden breezes.

A shiver rushes down Lance’s spine, unbidden and certainly unwanted.

Lotor continues, “But no, Mr. McClain. I did have you removed from the lineup to appreciate your appearance.”

Bah, what a shame. Lance is a solid 11 out of 10.

“I see in your records that you are a waterbender from the Northern Water Tribe. This is concerning.” 

Lance frowns and his fingers twist together in a nervous tick, “How so? They didn’t say it was that big of a deal.”

“And usually it wouldn’t be! If you weren’t going to Bouldergate, of course. You see, Lance- may I call you Lance?”

_ No.  _ “Yes.”

The Warden takes a seat at his desk but does not offer a chair to Lance. The guards stick like glue to the inmate’s sides, obviously nervous in the presence of their commander. As Lotor’s body moves out of the way of the direct sunlight Lance is forced to squint as it shines directly into his eyes. Nobody pays mind to his discomfort.

“Well, Lance, my prison is full of mainly Fire Nation citizens. Very proud, very  _ loyal _ Fire Nation citizens.”

In a rush of realization Lance understands what the Warden is getting at. He scowls, “You’re saying a bunch of supremacists are in there and I’m going to get torn apart the second I walk in.” He was expecting as much, if the  _ normal _ people  _ not _ in prison were anything to go by. 

Lotor nods, expression a mask of piteous sympathy. It’s annoying as all hell but Lance keeps his hands to himself (mainly thanks to the super heavy shackles they slapped onto his wrists the second they were notified that he could bend water). “Indeed. It is unfortunate but it is how they think, and I cannot change that. However, I am not a monster even if you would like to paint me as one. I am merciful, Lance. I will not throw you to the dogs.”

Lance’s face contorts in confusion.

“Only myself and five guards in the entire prison know that you are a waterbender.”

Eyes widening, Lance sucks in a startled breath through his nose, “I don’t understand.”

“You will hide that you are a waterbender if you wish to survive, Lance. I have no interest in having my men clean your insides off my prison floor.”

Lance winces at that very graphic reminder. 

Lotor carries on explaining, “Since you are a waterbender there certain procedures we are required to carry through with you. I am not barbaric, either, and I find a more  _ trusting  _ approach works best in rehabilitation. You will not be bound when given water to drink and you will not be isolated from the rest of the prison.”

He thinks of all the horror stories he’s heard of Fire Nation prisons. Of earthbenders having their arms broken, of waterbenders being tied up and thrown into tiny cells pumped full of dry air to rot. He’s heard that the guards are like demons, eager for the slightest reason to beat you to death or roast you alive, just as bloodthirsty as their brethren on the battlefield. He shivers again and doesn’t let his hopes get too high.

“But on full moons you will be kept in solitary.” The Warden informs him, “And you will be escorted by guards to the shower every day.”

_ Well, at least I don’t have to worry about dropping the soap if the guards are there. _

Lance takes a deep, tired breath and nods in understanding. His gaze has dropped to the ground and sun spots dot his vision. 

The Warden closes a folder, presumably his, and threads his fingers together on the desk before him, “I only have a few rules, Lance. Follow them, and you’ll do just fine here. I do not allow contraband. My men and I do not turn a blind eye to rape. I do not allow riots. I do not allow smoking. And I most certainly do not allow bending. I need to make this very clear to you, Lance.” The Warden leans forward and, with a serious frown that allows no room for argument, “You have a limited strikes system, but if you reach that limit, I have the legal  _ obligation _ to break your hands. Do I make myself clear?”

Lance can’t help but gulp. His spine stiffens and his fingers tingle in fear. He tries for a carefree smile but it’s obviously nervous, “Heh, bit of an overkill, don’t’cha think, sir?”

Lotor’s thin lips pull into a strange smile as he sits back in his chair, “Perhaps.” He gestures to the guards, “Quickly get him back in the lineup. You missed the fun part but I’m sure you’ll love the delousing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the SHORTEST thing I have ever posted! I wanted to try a new format, so they'll kinda be like little drabbles! I hope you like them :)  
> LISTEN! This fic will be pretty dark, they ARE in a prison, but I want it to be cute, too!   
> **There will be no noncon or dubcon between the OT3.** I know by the summary that this could totes be a fucked up rape fic but it most certainly will not be!   
>  Well, hoped you enjoyed!


	2. You know it really ain't that bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"So what's your name, new kid in school?_  
>  _Tell me something, do you feel lonely?"_  
>  -The Donnas, _New Kid in School_

Lance did not enjoy the delousing.

Now covered head to toe in garrish white powder and itching where the sun don’t shine, Lance is more than a tad uncomfortable. Seems like this is something he’s going to have to get used to, though, considering his surroundings. He’s been allowed back to his spot in the lineup of new convicts and is rounded off into another group. They’re categorized as the less dangerous of the bunch and Lance grows queasy at how small their numbers are in comparison to the actual bonafide murderers group.

No one talks much, not after watching some dumbass make one snarky remark too many and get clobbered over the head for it. Usually that’d be Lance but after his talk with the Warden he’s none too interested in putting an unnecessary target on his back. Even  _ he _ can make good decisions sometimes!

They head to Cell Block B, a lower security section for sentences up to fifteen years or less. Lance was charged with an assault case or two but neither of them were too serious to warrant any longer than a year’s time in prison. Nah, the real doozies came from the  _ drugs.  _ The drugs which were just so  _ conveniently _ placed in his  _ compromised _ ‘safe’ house. He supposes he deserves that though, with karma and whatnot being a thing. 

As he numbly surveys the dark metal stairs and the reddish hues of metal cells lining the walls, he can’t help but think of  _ them _ . His stomach clenches anxiously as he wonders if they felt just as scared as he does. It’s been two years and they’re all sorts of strong, they’ve probably made quite the name for themselves in whatever prison they got holed up in. He wonders if they were separated and prays, for their sanities, that they weren’t. It might have been his doing that they’re incarcerated but he in no way wishes them any more suffering.

At least he’s facing the same fate now. Maybe his time in here will ease his guilty, troubled mind. 

“This is your stop, McClain.” 

Lance looks to his guards and comes to a halt in the same motion. He can’t see the woman’s face because of her helmet but the thinnest strip of her dark amber eyes is visible. They are stoic and cold, unbothered by a sight she has witnessed thousands of times. It’s funny that this moment is so devastating to him and just another day on the job for her. He’d wish they could change places but that seems unfair to the both of them so he doesn’t bother. 

He faces the heavy cell door as it slowly slides open, revealing his room for the next fifteen years.

And his cellmate already residing within.

_ Fuck _ he has a cellmate? He eyes the large mound under a thick woolen blanket on the bottom of two bunks warily. Didn’t Lotor just say they would try to keep his bending a secret? Wouldn’t it be best for him to room alone? Then again, he thinks, perhaps it wouldn’t be all that smart to show some sort of favoritism his way. Lance McClain, besties with the boss! Now  _ that’s _ a sure fire way to get his ass chewed out- and not in the sexy way. 

“Garrett! You’ve got a buddy now to pass the time with, wake up and greet him properly.” The female guard calls into the cell, voice surprisingly good natured. The lounging man inside startles awake, sitting up and leaning outwards to avoid slamming his head into the bottom of the top bunk. He rubs a meaty fist at his sleepy eyes and yawns. The guard turns to Lance with a shadow of a smile, “You lucked out, getting paired with Garrett.”

Before Lance can question why that is, he is herded swiftly into the cell by the other guards. As the cell door once again eases shut Lance senses the slow movement of another body behind him. He whips around, cradling his folded bed set and extra clothes to his broad chest, to watch his cellmate rise to his feet.

And dear lord what a trip that is. The guy’s  _ huge!  _ He must be well over six feet tall, at least 200 pounds minimum. His arms are thick and his stomach bulges with enough fat and muscle to easily crush a man clean. Lance gulps shallowly, bites back any onslaught of tears he might experience, and offers a wry grin, “Uh- hey.”

Garrett analyzes him, easily towering over Lance with his impressive girth and size, and his hazel eyes hold a certain mechanical interest, like he was looking over a broken boiler or something. Then, without circumstance, his lips pull into an unmistakably friendly smile, “Hi! I’m Hunk, it’s nice to meet you!” He offers a quick bow of greeting, almost hitting Lance with his forehead on his way back up.

Wait-

Lance shakily returns the bow, nervousness and distrust still icy in his gut, “Nice to meet you, too.”

The smile remains in place on Hunk’s bright face as he pats the top bunk. The mattress gives a jump under the force and so does Lance’s heart. The big guy brushes off some invisible dirt, “Top bunk is yours! I’m afraid I’ll roll off of it if I tried to sleep up so high. I like being near the ground, y’know?”

Well, Lance  _ is _ in one of the less dangerous blocks. It isn’t that far of a fetch that his cellmate is a normal person. Just because they’re in prison doesn’t mean they’re all psycho killers, after all. His gaze tracks the other’s movements and he notices that Hunk is wearing a pair of fingerless gloves that look well used. 

Hunk catches his staring and waves his hand around, “Ah, these? Wondering how I got them?”

Lance shrugs, “Nah- they just reminded me of something.”  _ Someone. _

“Alright, well, want me to help you put your sheets on?”

Blinking in surprise, Lance cocks his head, “You would do that?”

“Yeah, man.” Hunk laughs at Lance’s shocked expression, “What? Did you think I would beat you up or something?”

“Uhm-” Lance stutters, “-yeah, actually.”

Taking Lance’s covers from him, Hunk chuckles again, “Yeah, I’ve been told I’m pretty intimidating! But no need to fear, I have no interest in hurting you. Yet.”

Lance’s spine stiffens and his face chills considerably.  _ Fuck. _

Hunk jokes at that, too, “I’m just teasing you! Man, you should see the look on your face.”

_ Fuck! _

His cellmate’s laughter is contagious and soon Lance is following along, albeit a little awkwardly. The two get to work setting up Lance’s bed and their teamwork cuts the time in half. Lance’s smile is warmer now as he flashes it at Hunk, “Thanks, man.”

Hunk takes a seat on his bunk and nods at him, “No problem. What’s your name, again?” He grabs a book from a small metal stool beside his bed.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Lance. Lance McClain.” Lance offers as he picks at his ugly brown shirt. The thing is more like a tunic than a shirt, really, and falls to around his upper thighs. It is paired with loose fitting black pants and thin slipper shoes. Not exactly the warmest combo but the cold is nothing to worry about in the Fire Nation.

Realizing that Hunk hasn’t answered him in a few seconds, he glances up from pouting at his outfit. His heart skips a beat when he finds the other staring wide-eyed at him, mouth parted in a blatant look of surprise. Lance attempts another smile but it’s pretty feeble, “W-what? Something wrong with that?”

Hunk appears to mull something over in his head for a moment before he finally tears his gaze away, shaking his head and mumbling to himself, “Nah, it can’t be.”

Lance decides that’s pretty weird and to not think too deeply on it. Even if he did want to ask, Hunk is already back to that sunny exterior, expression carefree and light, “Nothing, nothing! Just never heard that kind of name before in the Fire Nation!”

Fearing the obvious question of his origins, Lance laughs nervously, “I come from the colonies! My parents wanted to be different, y’know, too many ‘Lee’s!”

Hunk seems to take that as an acceptable answer, “Oh yeah, I get that, man. My name isn’t too common either.”

Lance nods in agreement but doesn’t say much else on that subject. He didn’t want to accidentally insult the man he just met and would be sharing a cell with until god knows when on his first day, now did he? He chooses to take stock of his cell. Granted this is a feat that take all of two seconds. There are a squat toilet in the corner, a sink with a rusty mirror above it, two dented footlockers at the end of the bunks, and a badly woven rug that takes up all of two feet in the center of the room. Along the wall beside Hunk’s bunk are little drawings and letters he’s pasted to the stone, along with a well done portrait of a beautiful dark skinned woman with large earrings. Must be his wife or something. Figures a good looking guy like Hunk would have an equally as charming spouse to return to.

“Well-P!” Hunk claps his hands together and pops the ‘p,’ drawing back Lance’s wayward attention, “I should probably give you an insider’s brief on the way prison life works. Or, at the very least, who you should look out for.”

Lance perks at that, “Yea, that’d be great.” He opens the unused locker and shoves his folded extra clothes inside, placing the small baggie of basic toiletries on top.

“The cells are open from 0800 to 2000, so during that time you’re free to be out of your cell. The yard is open at that time, too, but will close if there are any cases of violence that the guards have to step in on.”

“How often does that happen?” Lance questions.

Hunk shrugs, “Not too much, honestly. The guards don’t tend to get involved, if I’m being honest. They don’t mind us beating up on each other so long as we don’t kill someone.”

Lance gives a breathy, bemused laugh, “Oh yeah, ‘cause  _ that’s _ cool.”

“Just steer clear of Cell Block D and E, and you’ll be okay. That’s where all the crazies are.” Explains Hunk as he plays with the ragged cover of his book, “Breakfast is open from 0800 to 0900, lunch from 1200 to 1300, and dinner from 1700 to 1800. The food isn’t too bad here, especially when it’s  _ my _ day to cook.”

Quirking his brows, Lance asks, “Your day?”

“Yeah. We all have to do jobs here. It’s sort of a cycle, with each cell block taking on a new set of chores for the week. This week we’re on laundry duty, but hey! It isn’t as bad as breaking rocks outside!”

“Okay. Do we get trained how to do this, or…?”

“Nah, that’s up to your cellmate’s discretion. Luckily for you, I don’t see a problem in teaching you the ropes. Good thing you didn’t get stuck with Pidge! She’d leave you to drown.” Hunk chuckles, perhaps at some memory of this ‘Pidge.’

Lance grows tired of standing so he takes a seat on the stone floor. It’s a bit uncomfortable on his boney ass but he doesn’t complain, “Who’s Pidge?”

“Remember those people not to mess with I was telling you about?”

Lance nods.

“Yeah, she’s one of them. I technically am, too, if you’re wondering, but not because I’ll kill ya or anything. If you ever need anything, Lance, anything at all, I can get it for you.” Hunk smiles slyly, “For a price.”

“Ah.” Murmurs Lance, “You’re  _ that _ guy in prison.”

“Yup! But y’know, it’s your first day and I like you. So first request is half priced!”

“Thanks.” Lance deadpans, although he keeps the offer in mind. He’ll probably need it at some point. They didn’t let him take his face creams with him, obviously, and fuck he’s been feeling all sorts of funky without them. “So don’t mess with you or Pidge, got it. Who else?”

Hunk lays on his side and props his head up with his palm. He stares off into the ceiling, “Well, avoid the crazy nationalists, unless you’re one of em, then by all means.”

Lance shakes his head, “That’s definitely not me.” Nope, he’ll be running from them faster than penguin sledding. Man, he  _ misses _ penguin sledding! 

“Good, they’re always trouble. Other than them, there’s really only the two lone wolves. They’re kind of like the kings of this place, no one messes with them if they entertain the thought of living another day. Some newbie always tries to disrupt the peaceful order of things and challenges them.” Hunk chuckles once more, darker than before, “It never goes well, and just serves as another reminder not to hassel them. Pidge is under their protection, that’s why I say to not fuck with her. That, and she’ll gut you herself with their help.”

Grabbing at his stomach with the inane notion to keep his organs in place, Lance grins, “They must be terrifying, then.”

“Yeah, they are, but honestly Shiro’s pretty nice so long as you are polite and cordial with him.”

At the name, Lance’s heart instinctually plummets, reacting like Pavlov’s dog, into the depths of his intestines. Unwarranted memories of a beautiful laughter like golden springtime fill his ears, and he can almost feel the brush of a warm, comforting embrace around his waist. His breath hitches and his skin goes clammy, nails digging painfully into his dirty palms. Phantom lips brush playfully against his ear and the hot tendrils of guilt and fear wrap his heart in a firm chokehold. “W-wait!”

Hunk’s brow raises.

“H-his name, wh...what’s his  _ full _ name?” Demands Lance. He would stand but he doesn’t think his jelly legs would allow such a movement right now.

Slowly, like a storm finally breaking over the sea, realization dawns bright on Hunk’s face. There’s a strange array of emotions dancing there now, from anger to sympathy, and Hunk ends up settling on plain shock, “Takashi Shirogane.” He says slowly, as if afraid Lance would up and bolt. Not like there’s anywhere he could actually go.

It’s like someone’s punched him full force in the sternum. Lance tries to take a shuddering breath but finds it lodged somewhere between his jaw and mid throat.  _ Okay, okay, calm down, Lance. What are the odds they’re  _ both _ here? It’s already far fetched enough that you’re in the same prison as him in the first place. There’s no possible way, that’s just  _ not possible.

Hunk watches his little freak out silently for a moment before he inquires, “You’re  _ that _ Lance McClain, aren’t you?”

Lance’s eyes practically bulge out of his head, “What- they’ve- he’s talked about me?”

“I would think so!” Says Hunk, “You’re the one that got them  _ both _ in here, after all!”

_ Both. _

“B-both?”

_ Both. _

_ Both? _

_ BOTH?! _

Hunks nods, his expression now purely piteous. His smile is almost sad, “Yeah, man. Takashi Shirogane and Keith Kogane. They practically own this prison. Damn, you really screwed the pooch, didn’t you?”

_ Both. As in two of them. Also as in all three of us, in here, at the same time, miraculously.  _

A quake for a shiver ransacks Lance’s nervous system and he grabs his bare arms in hopes of controlling himself. He thinks he’s going to be sick. 

Hunk can see the green in his cheeks and tries for damage control, “Ah shit, wait, just calm down,  _ please _ don’t puke, I just got the stains out from  _ my _ last barf fest!”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith wipes angrily at his shiv with a dirty cloth, intent to buff out every last scratch in the bent metal. Shiro lounges beneath him, on the bottom bunk, and continues to read his adventure novel. He tries to ignore his boyfriend’s obvious negative energy, but it’s so palpable that soon Shiro becomes irritated, too. 

When he hears the tell-tale hiss that signals Keith having accidentally cut himself, Shiro releases a groan of a sigh and heaves himself off his cot. At his full height he can easily see into Keith’s bunk and he reaches over to grab the shiv from the other, “Alright, enough of that. You’re obviously too irrate to function properly.”

Keith shoots him a withering glare but it does little to persuade him to lay off. The younger man growls in frustration before sitting up in his bunk, his head almost bashing into the ceiling. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last if it did. 

“What did you expect, Keith?” Shiro questions as he tosses the blade down on his own pillow, “That Lance would  _ actually _ be here? Think rationally, what are the odds of that?”

Keith gives a jerky shrug before crossing his arms tightly at his chest, “They said a waterbender.”

“No, they  _ rumored _ that a waterbender would be here. No one in their right mind would send one here, of all places. And would you really want Lance here, with  _ those _ people?”

“We could protect him! And-and when we did, he would see how wrong he was about betraying us like that.”

Shiro frowns, his insides twisting in pain for both his boyfriend and his lost love. He rests a steady hand on Keith’s knee, “You think he would allow us to protect him? What, with that stubborn pride of his?”

“Fuck is stupid pride.” Keith snarls through clenched teeth, “And his big ego. I’d  _ break _ it, then!”

Seeing that he is currently losing this fight, Shiro steps up on his own bunk to push his torso halfway into Keith’s lap. He presses a quick kiss to the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth, and then one to his nose, and another to his chin. Keith releases an annoyed breath but doesn’t fight the affection.

“Takashi….” Keith murmurs, tension slowly leeching from him as Shiro kisses him on the lips. Shiro takes advantage of Keith’s parted mouth to slip his tongue inside, investigating along Keith’s teeth and playing with his tongue. Shiro’s hand moves from Keith’s knee to his inner thigh where he gives a sensual squeeze. Keith moans softly at that before pulling his mouth away, “Yo-you can’t distract me forever with this.” His tone is petulant but his eyes are glazed with obvious lust.

Shiro smiles adoringly at him, “But I can for now.” He leans forward to nip along Keith’s sensitive ears and the pale slope of his neck. Shiro doesn’t mind the light stubble there- if anything, he likes it. He sucks a quick little mark behind Keith’s left earlobe and the other arches into it, pressing his chest into Shiro’s and rubbing his deft hands down his sides. Shiro tongues Keith’s lobe and murmurs hotly, “Wanna fuck my face, baby?”

Keith groans before giving an eager nod.

Shiro smiles as he crawls up onto Keith’s bunk. He always knows how to stop Keith’s self-destructive behavior before it can really begin.

As he opens his mouth wide for his love, however, his mind isn’t on the hot flesh on his tongue. Behind his close lids he sees sparkling oceans trapped in a pair of big doe eyes, and the heady musk of Keith’s sex is replaced with the fresh scent of new rain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I have never updated a fic this close to each other. It is only because the chapters are so short. If I was doing my normal style, this shit wouldn't had been updated for another month probably lmao  
> As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this installment. Anyone know where the title of this fic is from?


	3. One way, or another, I'm gonna see ya'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _One way or another, I'm gonna find ya'_  
>  _I'm gonna get ya', get ya', get ya', get ya'._  
>  -Blondie, _One Way or Another_

**TWO YEARS PRIOR TO LANCE’S IMPRISONMENT**

“Lance!” 

The young waterbender perks up from his craft, the stealing of his attention causing the small sphere of dark brown liquid to fall with a  _ splash!  _ back into his teacup. A bright smile breaks across his features as he stands from the patio table outside his companions’ home. Two men walk his way, their mirroring expressions of joy animating usually intimidating faces. Keith Kogane is the first to reach him and he gathers Lance into a tight hug, nearly crushing the breath out of him.

Lance wheezes, more comically than real, and returns the embrace just as fiercely, “We made a total baby out of you!” He aims to tease but his voice is too soft to hold any rudeness. Besides, they all know by now that Lance hardly means his taunts and uses them to hide his more vulnerable emotions. His two companions think it’s adorable, much to Lance’s chagrin.

“Shut up.” Keith mutters into the smooth column of Lance’s neck. 

Lance suppresses the shiver that brings and catches the eye of Takashi Shirogane. His heart gives a jump at the displeasure he finds there and he squeezes Keith absently around his shoulders. “Something wrong, Shiro?” Shiro shoots an obvious glance towards the abandoned teacup. Lance chuckles nervously as Keith unwinds his arms from around Lance’s middle. Keith follows Shiro’s gaze and his go stormy as well.

“What did we say about waterbending where people can see you, Lance?” Shiro chastises, a frown tugging at his plush mouth. Nevertheless, he still draws Lance into a grasp that rivals Keith’s, his concern for Lance’s well being obvious in the strength of his grip. 

Lance looks up at Shiro, resting his chin on the taller man’s collarbone, “Psh, like there’s anyone around that’ll attack me. Nobody saw me.”

“You don’t know that!” Hisses Keith as he pivots on his heel to survey their surroundings. Lance’s words are true, however, there really is not a soul in sight. It being the dead of night meant not many were out and about, especially not in this neighborhood. It’d be too dangerous. Well, too dangerous for anyone but them three. 

“I’m a big boy, guys, I can handle myself.”

Shiro releases Lance after a lingering brush of lips on his forehead. Lance hopes the light of the burning firefly light does not reveal the ruddy blush on his dark cheeks. “We know that but it doesn’t stop us from worrying.”

Lance chuckles softly and swipes Keith’s house key from his fingers, ignoring the other’s angry grumble as he turns to unlock his friends’ house, “If you worry so much, Shiro, perhaps you will like why I have come here tonight.”

Shiro and Keith do not hesitate to enter their home with him. Of course they don’t. They never suspect a thing, even when he almost breaks down into tears. He has long since earned their unwavering trust. 

They’re in love with him, after all. And love is the easiest of emotions to exploit.

 

* * *

 

 

**PRESENT DAY**

Lance wakes to the jarring clanks of his cell door opening. His body is heavy and his back uncomfortably stiff from the thinness of his mattress. He winces at the bright light that shines in through the new opening and lifts a hand to shade his face. 

Movement beneath him signals Hunk’s wakefulness. He watches as his cellmate rolls out of bed and stretches, a few bones popping in a way that makes Lance wince. The big man turns and smiles friendly at Lance, gaze surprisingly clear for a man that just woke up. “C’mon, buddy, we got to get to breakfast before all the good stuff’s gone.”

Breakfast. As in  _ communal  _ breakfast. As in  _ everyone will be there _ breakfast. Lance bites his bottom lip and swallows down the bile rising in his stomach. He shakes his head, “Nah, I think I’ll pass.”

Hunk adopts a strange look, “Don’t skip breakfast, man, you’ll be starving by lunch.”

Lance shakes his head again.

Sighing, Hunk crosses his arms at his chest, “Is this about Shiro and Keith?”

“No! I’m just not hungry!” Cue Lance’s stomach growling obnoxiously. He grunts and sits up in his bunk, face pinched in a worried expression. 

“You can’t avoid them forever, Lance. You’re in a tiny  _ prison. _ ”

“I know that, I-” Lance huffs a frustrated breath, trying to hide the sickening fear gnawing at his stomach, “Just let me have this morning at least? I just got here, I want to clear my thoughts.”

Hunk stares at him for a minute, something akin to annoyance and pity in his glare, before he relents with another resigned sigh, “Fine! But you aren’t getting out of laundry duty. If you’re found lolly gagging during work time, you’ll be punished.”

Lance gives Hunk a small smile of gratitude, “Thanks, Hunk. Where’s laundry, exactly?”

The convict waves him off dismissively, “I’ll come and get you in thirty.” He walks to the entrance to the cell and stops, turning back to look at Lance, “Don’t look for sympathy here, Lance. It’ll just make you a target. I recommend you face them head on if you want anyone here to respect you.”

At Hunk’s harsh tone a large stone settles in Lance’s chest. The other man disappears through the entrance and Lance watches him go with a sense that he fucked up. He clenches his fingers tightly around his knees.  _ I don’t want Hunk to think I’m weak...but I don’t want to face them, I’m too scared to see them- _

He sucks in a shaking breath and jumps down from his bunk. He quickly exits his cell and chases after Hunk’s retreating form going down a set of metal stairs, “Hunk! Wait, I’m coming!”

His cellmate stops and turns with a pleased grin. When Lance reaches his side, he  _ thwaps!  _ him on the back jovially, “That’s better! If you’d kept that pity party up, I would’ve made you my bitch!” Lance almost trips with a squawk of surprise and Hunk laughs loudly, drawing the irritated glances of passing prisoners. “I’m just kidding, I’m straight as a pole! Man, you’re easy.”

Lance scratches at the back of his neck, keeping his head on swivel as they travel to the mess hall. His nervousness must show on his face for Hunk rolls his eyes skyward, “Man, chill out, they tend to skip breakfast anyways.”

“O-oh.” He breathes a quick sigh of relief but doesn’t let his guard down too much. Knowing his shit luck they’d show up out of nowhere and shank him before he could even blink. 

At least, he  _ hopes  _ they’ll just shank him and be done with it. Lord knows he deserves far worse for what he’s done.

  
  
  
  


 

 

Breakfast wasn’t all too bad and blissfully uneventful. He got a few odd looks from other prisoners, some obviously sizing him up and some flat out aggressive. Interestingly enough, no one approached them. If they did, it was to talk shop with Hunk quickly with only a curious glance thrown his way. Like Hunk said, no one fucks with him, and by extension, no one wanted to fuck with Lance either. He is grateful he was paired with someone so influential in gen pop, although surely word would be going around soon about the “skinny twunk” (as he heard an inmate so sweetly describe him as) following Hunk around like a lost puppy. 

He hopes the description won’t be enough to draw Shiro and Keith’s attention. Meeting them is inevitable, he very well realizes, but meeting them  _ right this second _ is not exactly on his department store wish list. 

After breakfast Hunk herds him to a section of the yard where a multitude of basins, large and small, have been set out. A washboard and two bars of soap are shoved into his hands, and he’s shoved unceremoniously towards a basin he is to share with Hunk. Lance pauses by it and stares inside, his wide blue eyes staring back at him in the reflection. 

The basin is full of water.

Lance’s brows furrow and he glances over to the nearest guard. It’s hard to tell but by her build Lance thinks it’s the same woman who escorted him to his cell yesterday. She watches him like a hawk, irises glinting dangerously behind her guard helmet as they survey his every breath. Ah, he gets it. He might be around water, and a lot of it, but that doesn’t mean he has any sort of freedom. Another quick look around finds four other guards also standing precariously close by, seemingly disinterested in the work of the prisoners. He’s not fooled though. He can feel their gazes on him, hot and accusatory, just itching for a reason to beat him to a pulp. 

Hunk looks up at him, “Hey, what’re you waiting for?” Soap bubbles slide listlessly down his wet arms and he splashes a bit of the water at him, “I can’t do this all by myself!”

Lance watches the water swish gently in the basin, breathes deeply through his nose, and just  _ soaks _ in the dormany energy of nearby water. They aren’t nearly as invigorating as open sea, of course, but it is something. When the droplets from Hunk’s playfulness hit his bare skin he grins big and quickly takes a seat beside his cellmate, “Sorry, man, let’s do it.” 

He dunks his hands into the water and recalls just how desperately thirsty his dry skin was. The water is like balm on burning flesh, and even though he has to laboriously scrub at filthy and soiled garments, he knows that laundry duty will forever be his favorite job cycle.

  
  
  


 

 

The lunch block in the general mess hall breeds new anxieties. 

He managed to avoid Shiro and Keith this morning but they can’t deny food forever. The mess hall is large but not big enough for him to completely lose himself in. Not to mention he’s fresh meat and that’s already garnering enough attention as is. Any comfort he drew from being around his element has quickly drained from his mind, replaced by the encompassing fear of confrontation.

“Get in, get out.” Lance mutters under his breath as he trails after his cellmate, “Quick as lightning.”

Hunk casts an amused glance his way as they enter the mess hall, “I wouldn’t recommend cutting in line your first day, Lance.”

“Shh!” Snaps the waterbender as he jerks his head around. No one around them seems to have noticed them, and he gets some weird looks for his odd behavior. He hurries back to Hunk’s side, “Don’t say my name so loud!”

Hunk rolls his eyes for the upteenth time that day, “Listen, I get why you’re worried. I once watched Shiro break a man’s jaw just for laughing when Pidge tripped. And saw Keith practically gut a guy for- well, I don’t really think he had a reason for that one.”

All the color drains from Lance’s face and his upper teeth sink into his chapped bottom lip. He squeaks out a remark, “That isn’t helping, Hunk!”

“Sorry.” Comes his sheepish reply. At least he has the decency to sound apologetic. Hunk continues, “But anyways, I don’t think they’re going to kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His stomach lurches at the thought of having  _ his _ jaw broken and  _ his _ insides unprofessionally vivisected. He groans, “That’s exactly what scares me. I know they won’t kill me, Hunk. That won’t be enough for them.”

Hunk adopts a curious expression as the two step into the food line. He grabs a tray and Lance follows suit, hunching his body over it to subconsciously make himself harder to spot. He knows he’s acting like a total coward right now but can you really blame them? The Shiro and Keith he remembers were ruthless towards their enemies. They weren’t ever cruel, really, but who knows what prison has done to them? 

“So, I only heard from them that you were the cause of them being here. They never told me the whole story. Was it really that bad that they’d torture you, or something?” Questions Hunk, holding out his tray to the disgruntled convict behind the counter. She scoops out a thick helping of seasoned white rice onto his tray, and then gives Lance a noticeably smaller portion. When he raises his eyebrow she pulls her upper lip into a hound like snarl, and he quickly moves on to the next serving station.

Lance gives a jerky shrug as he stares at his food, feeling a bit too nauseous to even think about eating it. He doesn’t particularly want to share. Hunk seems like he’s good friends with Keith and Shiro, and Lance has no desire to make an enemy out of his cellmate either, “We just have history, is all. I was given a deal that I couldn’t refuse and they paid the price for it. That’s all.” His tone is flat to hide the swirling guilt inside and he hopes Hunk doesn’t notice.

The bigger man watches him out of the corner of his eye for a moment before nodding, “Sure, man, you don’t have to tell me. C’mon, I share a table with Pidge sometimes, maybe she’s out here already and you can meet her.” The two break off from the line and head into the seating area. 

Lance is glaring absently at his tray, trying to find the will to eat, when he suddenly smacks roughly into Hunk’s back. The other inmate hardly moves but Lance is pushed back by the force, nearly losing his food to the disgusting floor. There’s no way he could go get seconds and there’s also no way he’d eat off the ground. He has a little something called  _ pride _ even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes. Rubbing his nose and balancing his tray on his left hand, Lance scowls at Hunk, “Hey, what’s the big idea?”

Hunk glances at him and the bright pitying humor in his eyes making something thud nervously inside him. Hunk jerks his head to the left and even though Lance already knows what he’s going to see (and he  _ desperately  _ doesn’t want to see it), he tries for a twitch of a smile, “Wh-what?”

“Looks like your time is up, Lance.” 

Lance swallows, his mouth suddenly painfully dry and his skin clammy, and turns his head to the direction Hunk has gestured to. 

They look the same as they did two years ago, appearing like not a day went by since Lance last saw them. Keith’s hair is a bit shaggier, maybe, but that’s to be expected. Lance was the only one who made a fuss about his appearance and with him gone of course Keith would fall back into his caveman ways. He can’t tell from this distance (they’re on the other side of the mess hall but clear as day, like a beacon on the shore) but he thinks Keith’s shoulders may be broader. 

As always, where Keith is, Shiro cannot be far behind. They’ve always been inseparable, prison would not change that. He’s as tall and muscular as ever, his hair still styled into that attractive undercut he only kept because Lance had told him that he loved it. Looming at Keith’s shoulder like one of those handsome bodyguards in the sleazy romance novels he used to read, Shiro looks formidable and strong. Capable. Dominant. No wonder him and Keith run the prison, Lance is all the way on the other end of the hall and even he can sense their mighty presence. Like a rabbit sniffs out a wolf. Although perhaps he is a bit more perceptible to it than others.

Hunk whistles lowly, “Man. Meet back up with me if they don’t shank you to death.” With that, Hunk walks away, leaving Lance alone and without cover in the middle of the open seating area. 

Lance’s grip tightens on his tray, his fingers going white just like his face. 

Keith’s head turns, his narrowed mauve eyes flitting across the room in a survey….

And just as his hot gaze lands on Lance’s quivering form, all the waterbender can think over the sheer volume of his apprehension is,  _ what are the fucking odds?! _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo shit Lance, better run for your h*ckin life!  
> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this installment.


	4. Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _With your empty smile_  
>  _And your hungry heart..._  
>  _...Feel the bile rising_  
>  _From your guilty past._  
>  -Pink Floyd, _Run Like Hell_

 

Familiar big baby blues, sparkling like the goddamn ocean and glistening with open heartache. They’re on Keith and Keith’s  _ on fire. _

The convict firebender halts in his tracks, hardly noticing when Shiro bumps roughly into his back. He doesn’t move from the force anyways. He doesn’t think anything could uproot him from this spot, or especially not break the longing stare shared between them. Just the sight of those soulful eyes makes his gut clench with a confusing jumble of rage, betrayal, and adoration. Half of him wants to scoop the waterbender into his arms and cradle him close. The other half wants to throttle him and demand _why,_ _why did you betray us, Lance? You said you loved us. You showed us how you loved us. We loved you. We still love you._

Lance’s face is slackened into an expression of pure shock. Fear’s there, too, Keith realizes, swimming in the depths like a water serpent, just waiting to rush to the surface and bring destruction. Lance is frightened by him, by Shiro. He is about to up and run, Keith can see in the tenseness of his broad shoulders, in the bend of his knees; but Keith’s anguished gaze keeps him locked in place, unable to flee like he so desperately wants. Like prey becoming frozen in the presence of their predator. 

If it’s flight or fight instincts they’re on now, then Keith’s always been keen on fighting. Lance’s hypnotic stare can only have Keith stuck for so long. The firebender’s right hand shoots up and twists into Shiro’s jumper. He tugs the larger man down and hisses, “ _ Lance. _ ”

There’s a sharp intake of air and then Shiro is moving before even Keith does, pushing past the shorter man with one destination in mind. Inmates scramble out of his way but it isn’t like the two men are paying any attention to them. If Keith were to look at Shiro’s face he would see the mirror of his own expression: blackened anger and conflicting desire. What desire they hold they could not say, all they care about is getting their hands on Lance and making him  _ stay _ for once in his fucking life.

When Shiro moves it’s like someone hit a switch. Their little rabbit springs into movement, pivoting on his heel without looking and unceremoniously slamming directly into a massive  _ giant _ of a man. His lunch and drink splatter messily all over the front of the other inmate’s uniform. Lance’s head snaps up to look at the downright murderous convict before twisting back to see that Shiro and Keith are halfway across the room now, infinitesimally more terrifying than some beefcake criminal. 

“You wanna die, fucker?!” The inmate snarls like a bulldog as he lifts his fist to aim a punch at Lance’s temple.

Keith breaks into a faster pace, shoving people out of the way and to the ground. If this low life even  _ thinks _ about touching Lance, Keith will tear his fucking  _ eyes _ out-

But this is Lance he’s thinking of. He’s seen Lance take on whole gangs of meatheads this size. Lance drops his tray and easily sidesteps around the inmate, rounding to his back. He then braces the palms of his hands on a table, lifts up his lower body gracefully into the air, and delivers a powerful double legged kick straight to the small of the man’s back. The guards don’t even blink an eye at the violence, content to stand back and allow it all to happen.

The man is thrown forward with a surprised bellow by the force of Lance’s kick, straight into Shiro’s path. As the man goes down he accidentally smacks his huge arm into Shiro’s middle, pulling him to the ground with him. Shiro lands on his side and immediately shoves at the fallen man’s arm, a deadly snarl on his lips, “Get the  _ fuck _ off me!”

Keith leaps over them without looking, knowing well enough that Shiro will be at his heels any second. But this little distraction has cost them precious time in catching up with Lance. The waterbender is already crashing out of the mess hall, his long legs contributing to a grand stride that won’t be easy for Keith to catch up to. Lance has always been a superb runner, whether it be from his emotions or his enemies!

The damn flight risk is lucky Keith can’t bend without facing serious consequences. He’s already hit two strikes and the next one will result in unusable hands for a few months. If not, he would have already caged Lance in a wall of flames, unable to escape using his bending. Hopefully Lance already knows how suicidal it would be of him to openly use waterbending in a place like this.  _ Shit, does he know? _ A pang of concern cuts through his rage and turns out to be a stronger motivator to run faster. 

Shiro can run damn fast, too, and his legs are longer than Lance’s. Not by much but enough to shorten the distance between the three. The older man suddenly rushes past Keith and Keith picks up the pace, drawing level with him. Judging by Lance’s hurried glances about his surroundings, it seems safe to say that the new prisoner has no idea where he is running to. 

Good, they can use that against him. Keith bites to Shiro, “He’s headed towards the yard.”

“Too many people out there,” Shiro grunts back, “might lose him.”

“Not if we catch him first!”

Lance glances back at the two and gives a yelp at how close they are, only about five meters or so behind and gaining ground quick. He curses before cutting to the right, hopping on his left foot for a split second to gain balance before he is off again like a horse at the races. Keith and Shiro repeat his movements, Shiro having to take a second longer than the others due to his larger stature. 

Seeing the opening to the yard, Lance books it, darting past and flitting around other prisoners who yell in surprise when he accidentally slams his shoulder into a few. The force isn’t enough to disrupt his run but each hit does slow him down for a margin of a moment until he can pick up speed again. From what he can hear behind him it sounds like Keith and Shiro are facing the same problem.

The inmates try to scramble out of Keith and Shiro’s ways but aren’t nearly fast enough, resulting in Keith tripping over the flailing limbs of an older woman and Shiro ramming directly into a group of three men. Lance feints around a surprised bystander and takes advantage of his pursuers’ momentary distractions to sprint into the yard. 

 

* * *

 

 

“So...was that who I think it was?” Questions Pidge as she lifts a clump of sticky rice to her lips.

Hunk nods and speaks through a mouthful of food, “Yvwah, ‘ve never ‘een them ‘o mad befowre.” 

Pidge snorts and eats her rice, honey colored gaze slipping to the right to look at the mess of food still cluttering the ground where Lance almost got his ass kicked. She swallows before speaking because she was raised  _ right, _ unlike some people who will not be named, “True that. That beanpole can move though.”

Humming in agreement, Hunk glances at the big guy whom Lance kicked. The man stormily eats his food, obviously beyond pissed at being made a fool of by such an unassuming guy. He’s pretty hefty looking, even bigger than Hunk and Shiro.

“He must be packing some heat, then.” Pidge says.

Hunk swallows and grins in amusement, “He’s gonna need it if he’s going to be at the center of  _ their _ attention.”

“Think they’ll kill him?”

“Nah.”

“Poor guy.”

The two chuckle together as they finish their meal. Their merriment is disrupted, however, by the sudden appearance of a  _ very _ frazzled Lance McClain. They stare at him with wide eyes, their expressions twin representations of the obvious question,  _ how the hell did you survive?!  _

Lance wipes a thin layer of sweat from his damp brow with the back of his tanned hand, a nervous and fearful smile twitching on his lips, “Hey, uh, can I still eat or will they not let me get seconds even if I dropped it?”

Some inmates are staring at him, curious about the man that drew the immediate contemptment from the prison’s scariest convicts. When the waterbender whips his head around to glare at them they all go back to what they were doing, losing interest in his average looks and thinness. He frowns again and then looks back at Hunk and Pidge, “You said to find me if they don’t kill me. They didn’t, so here I am.”

Hunk shakes himself out of his surprise and smiles, “I’ll go get you a tray, Abby won’t let you get seconds until she likes you.” He stands up and trails off to the line, leaving Pidge and Lance alone.

Lance collapses into a seat at the table, his cheeks still red from the effort of running for his young life. He eyes Pidge and asks, “Are you this Pidge Hunk told me about?”

Pidge nods, “Yup, that’s me. You’re Lance McClain, then? Heartbreaking casanova?”

Lance’s eyes widen by a fraction and he huffs, scratching the back of his head. Pidge notices that his knuckles are busted and bleeding. He jokes, although his tone is a bit weak, “If that’s what they told you. It’s the nicest thing they could have said.”

“I’m sure.” She points to his hand, “That have to do with you getting away from Keith and Shiro?”

He lifts his knuckles in front of his face, glancing at them with a shrug, “Oh, uh-”

A panting guard rushes into the mess hall at that moment, baton drawn and mouth tugged into a snarl that demanded no questions. He barks at the startled inmates who still remained to eat, “RIOT IN THE YARD! GET TO YOUR CELLS,  _ NOW! _ ”

Another guard rushes in after him and a swirling whip of fire spontaneously sprouts from her hand. She orders the same and cracks the whip into the air, showering the prisoners with sparks and embers. The prisoners react immediately, throwing their chairs to the ground in their haste to do as told. Lance winces at the violent heat and jumps to his feet. He turns to Pidge with a devastated look, “I didn’t eat breakfast! I’m starving! I didn’t know they would do  _ this! _ ”

Pidge rolls her eyes and stands, abandoning her empty plate at the table, “Just get back to your cell unless you want a new scar or two.” She glares daggers at the guards, silently daring them to come any closer with that fire.

Hunk runs to their sides with  _ no _ food, to Lance’s disdain, his face confused and his voice incredulous, “A riot? Who’s stupid enough to start one of those with Lotor in charge?”

At the anxious chuckle beside them, Hunk and Pidge’s stares jump from the guards to Lance. 

“You didn’t.” Hunk deadpans.

“Please say you did.” Pidge grins with excitement.

Lance smiles skittishly, his thumb rubbing across the tattered skin of his right hand’s knuckles. Hunk groans heavily and Pidge cackles hysterically, “You DID!” She screeches with glee. She punches Lance in the shoulder as they hurry past the guards.

Hunk sounds resigned but the underhanded amusement is apparent, “Lance….”

“Hey!” Lance squawks, “I had to escape from them somehow! I needed a big distraction!”

“How did you even manage that?” Inquires Pidge. They are then absorbed into the moving crowd to their cell block, heading up a flight of stairs to their level.

Hunk grumbles from beside them, “Don’t approve of this delinquent behavior, Pidge. If they find out it’s him who started it….”

Pidge shrugs as he nudges Lance, her brows raised in expectation. Lance grins at her, trying to keep his tone low and nonchalant even though his ego demands that everyone in a mile radius knows of his badassery, “All I had to do was punch a few guys. They did the work for me. I think everyone here is just itching for a big brawl, you know?”

Laughing like a little witch, Pidge titters, “Do you blame them?”

Lance waves it off, “So long as they keep Shiro and Keith occupied, I don’t care.” 

“Gotta face them sometime, buddy.” Hunk reminds him unhelpfully. 

While Lance winces at that, Pidge dismisses it by stating resolutely, “Yeah, but he started a  _ riot _ to get away from them, that’s some funny shit right there. A  _ riot,  _ Hunk!”

Hunk shushes her.

 

* * *

 

 

“I gotta go where?”

The female guard at their cell door is the one Lance recognizes from earlier. By her scowl he can tell that she is beyond irritated. There’s a nasty bruise on her forearm that he imagines she got from helping stop the riot he caused. He feels a little guilty for it. She repeats her demand, “The Warden wants to see you. Now.” She takes a pair of steel cuffs from her side, opening them in a calm offer, “Wrists, please.”

Lance glances at Hunk who just frowns knowingly at him. He bites his lip as apprehension builds within. Whatever they do, though, it can’t be worse than what Shiro and Keith have planned. He’d rather get a royal ass whooping from Lotor than ever face them. Holding out his wrists for her to slap the cuffs on, he jumps at the stark feeling of cold metal. 

The guard pulls on him and drags him out, her strength and status enough to move him. Hunk calls out as they leave, “Deny everything!”

Lance chuckles and is escorted from his cell. As it closes behind him he wonder just what his punishment will be. 

He wonders if Shiro and Keith got hurt in the riot. On the surface he hopes so, as it’d be best for him in the end, but it’s hard to lie to the tiny, guilty voice inside that claims otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance escaped for now...  
> But Shiro and Keith will have their say.


	5. I'm on a roller coaster but I'm on my feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Where I go I just don't know_  
>  _I got to got to gotta take it slow_  
>  _When I find my piece of mind_  
>  _I'm gonna give you some of my good time."_  
>  -Red Hot Chili Peppers, _Soul to Squeeze_

“He’s  _ where?! _ ”

With a breezy smile, Hunk restates, “Solitary, man. That’s what happens when you cause trouble around here. You, of  _ all people, _ should know this.” He refocuses on his reflection in the smudged mirror bolted into his cell wall. He tilts his head up and to the left, bringing a single blade razor to his jaw line to dry shave away a strip of stubble. 

Keith eyes the razor with unbridled jealousy. Because him and Shiro live in Cell Block C, they’re classified as medium security prisoners. They would have been stuck in Cell Block D, and therefore fucked royally in regards to allowed freedoms, had they not bribed and threatened their way into a less guarded area. Block B prisoners are free to purchase two single blade razors at the commissary every two weeks, while Block C prisoners can only shave during shower time under the direct scrutiny of guards. Better than Blocks D and E, but still frustratingly obnoxious. Just like a certain waterbender they know.

Hunk winces as he knicks himself with the blade, “Yup, guard just told me. He’ll be in there for a week.” He grabs a damp washcloth that hangs off the cusp of the sink basin and gently dabs at a beading drop of blood under his jaw. 

“I can’t believe this….” Keith mutters lowly to himself before he bursts into his vicious snarl again, “First he runs like a fucking  _ coward,  _ and then he stupidly starts a fucking  _ riot _ , and now this?!”

The other inmate just chuckles with a lackadaisical shrug, “You have to admit, starting a riot on his first day? Pretty awesome.”

Awesome?!  _ Awesome?!  _ How could this be awesome?! Now they have to wait a  _ week _ to get their hands on the little shithead!

Keith glares murderously at Hunk who continues to shave undeterred. He gives a great huff before moving deeper into the cell. Climbing onto the top bunk,  _ Lance’s _ bunk, he makes himself comfortable. Hunk doesn’t stop him, wouldn’t have even if he could tell Keith what to do. Keith crosses his arms like a petulant child and throws his head down on Lance’s pillow, “No, it’s stupid, is what it is.” 

The pillow is thin and ratty, offering no real comfort to Keith’s neck and head, and the blanket is itchy and uncomfortable. The Lance Keith knew loved covering his bed with dozens of fluffy pillows and burying himself underneath the thick koala otter skin blanket his mother so lovingly stitched together for him. Keith always thought such luxuries were extremely impractical. His old bed honestly wasn’t that much different from what he has now. Shiro had a softer spot for Lance’s determination that they get better bedsheets and pillows and once bent to the young man’s will. 

Keith won’t ever forget the time he came home in the wee hours of the morning to find Lance and Shiro curled up underneath a mountain of soft blankets, having twisted their bodies underneath, on top of, and around pillows and blankets until they were utterly trapped. It was terribly adorable. Shiro has never looked as delicate as he did then, in that one snapshot of time branded into Keith’s mind, and Keith feels wishful sorrow, like a sort of hiraeth. Shiro has been scorned by betrayal and dishonesty, and the odds of him allowing himself to look so vulnerable, even with Keith, are close to none.

Keith closes his eyes for a moment. Lance probably had a hard time sleeping in this bed because of its firmness. But his old bed...Keith wonders if Lance ever lost a wink of sleep over them. Over what he did to them. It was weeks before Shiro could break Keith out of his cycle of insomnia. A gnarled, ugly part of him, a part that has grown larger than ever in the past two years, hopes that Lance still can’t sleep. That every time he closes his eyes he sees their faces twisted into their final expressions of heartbreak. He desperately wants Lance to be haunted by it. 

At the same time, he wants to buy more pillows from the commissary. Leave them here on his bed for him to return to once he gets released back into gen pop. Lance probably wouldn’t appreciate it. They surely would only serve as reminders that Shiro and Keith are there, watching him, waiting for him, and that they remember every little detail about him. Keith cherishes the thought of the gifts tormenting Lance, too.

Hunk’s voice breaks Keith out of his daydreaming, dragging him from that disturbed area of his mind and back into weary reality, “You’re only saying that because you and Shiro wanted to get your hands on him and he cleverly evaded you. Stop being such a bad sport. You’ll get him when he is released from solitary. He can’t run forever.” Hunk finishes up shaving and washes off his razor, cleaning it quickly with his washcloth before meandering over to his footlocker to return the razor to a little leather bag. He straightens out and faces Keith.

Keith finds himself nodding along to Hunk’s logic. He knows he’s acting childishly but it’s hard to rein in his frolicking emotions when the only one who can keeps tabs on them is off who knows where. Keith sighs. There used to be another who acted as his impulse control…. Keith scowls at the dark ceiling of the cell. This is pathetic, dwelling on lost romance like some stupid teenager. He needs to focus on his anger, on the disloyalty. Not on the way Lance used to touch his shoulder, his jaw, his cheeks; used to gather him in with one pleading look. Those times were over. Lance does not deserve his kindness.

If Keith thinks that way, then why does he bemoan that Lance is even in here with them in the first place? Why does he pity the man?  _ Sympathize _ with him? If Keith truly wants revenge like he thought he wanted all this time, then why did his heart sing in euphoric elation when he saw Lance again?

Fuck this. He needs to punch something. Needs to sweat out all these conflicting thoughts. 

“Where’s Shiro?” Hunk asks when the silence has dragged on too long, “I woulda thought you two would be off conspiring something by now.”

Keith shrugs, “He’s probably at the gym. Or staring off dramatically into the distance in the yard. What do you mean by conspiring?”

Snorting, Hunk takes a seat on his bunk, intending to grab his novel and begin reading where he last left off, “Aren’t you guys gonna, I don’t know, plot up some plan to get Lance to like ya again, or something?”

“What?!” Barks Keith as the weight of Hunk’s words makes him sit up in the bunk and almost smack his head into the ceiling. The image of Lance actually hitting his head flutters through his brain and he curses the butterflies it gives him. “Why would we do that? We  _ hate _ Lance. He got us in here!” He hangs his head over the side, upside down, to stare incredulously at his friend.

“Yeah, okay, buddy. With how much you two spend moaning and groaning about him, I was under the impression y’all were still head over heels.” Hunk appears disinterested but Keith knows better. The big man is the type to be  _ very _ nosy and then pretend he isn’t. It’s good when you want information but not so wonderful when his attention is on  _ you. _

Unfortunately, Hunk is right, to an extent. Keith knows this but is too prideful to admit it. Who wants to be the guy who still pines over his ex? And after two years? Instead of voicing this, Keith just growls, as prickly and aggressive as ever, “Absolutely not.”

“Whatever you say.” Hunk’s eyes slip from Keith’s to the entrance of his cell. His face brightens, “Oh, hey Shiro!”

Keith turns to his boyfriend, a scowl still stuck in place on his lips. The other man smiles placatingly at him and moves further into the cell. Before Shiro can speak, Keith is already demanding, “And where have  _ you _ been?”

His unnecessarily accusing tone would have made any other person irritated immediately, but Shiro is long used to Keith’s temper tantrums. He knows that Keith only acts like this when he’s trying to hide some other emotion he’s harboring. Shiro thinks it’s kind of cute, if he’s being honest. Shiro’s hand slides mindlessly up Keith’s leg as he draws near, “Hello, Hunk.” He ignores Keith’s narrowed eyes and grins at their friend, “So, you’re Lance’s cellmate? Convenient!”

Hunk raises an eyebrow at Shiro, “You sound...chipper, considering.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Keith jumps in this time, suspicious of his boyfriend’s behavior. He expected the larger man to be in a horrid mood, maybe covered in some poor schmuck’s blood the next time he saw him. Certainly not  _ happy. _ “Because that dumbass got himself put in solitary? Meaning we can’t talk to him for another week?”

Tightening his grip ever slightly into the meat of Keith’s upper thigh, Shiro just continues to smile carelessly, “Oh that! No, no, this is good, Keith.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Gives us time to form a game plan.”

Hunk chuckles to himself, shaking his head, “See, Keith? What did I tell you?  _ Conspiring.”  _

Keith rolls his eyes at Hunk’s joking tone before focusing his attention on his boyfriend, “What are you trying to do, Takashi?”

Shiro hums in his throat and grabs one of Keith’s hands, rubbing his thin fingers between his own. He flashes a handsome smirk that never fails to make Keith’s heart miss a beat, “Yu Dao. They’ve had some troubles, huh? Not really well liked by the mainland, with their rebellions and all.”

Keith frowns at the mention of the Fire Nation colony, “Yeah…? You’re not making any fucking sense.”

“What do you think would happen if word got around that someone is from Yu Dao?”

Hunk interjects then, his voice suggesting he already knows exactly where Shiro is going with this, “They’d get their ass kicked by those radicals. Life would be hell for them here.” Hunk knows that all too well. Doesn’t matter, no one fucks with him now, anyways. The only inmates who do know Hunk’s origins are in this cell or gone.

Keith nods in agreement. What is Shiro on about…? 

His face suddenly clears as it hits him.

“You want to tell people Lance is from Yu Dao?!”

Shiro grins at him, a sharp and dangerous thing full of teeth that promises trouble, and Keith recalls just why he’s so in love with him.

 

* * *

 

 

Man, if there’s one thing solitary makes you do, it’s  _ think. _

And if there’s one thing Lance hates having the free time to do, it’s  _ think. _

_ Thinking _ leads to  _ guilt;  _ guilt and regret and anxiety that just all mix up real nicely into one big  _ I hate myself _ cake. With a nice fondue bow on top! 

“I had a reason.” The strange carving of a man in the wall (which might have been done with fingernails but Lance doesn’t like to think on it) doesn’t answer him, of course. It just stares with poorly drawn circles for eyes back at him, unblinkingly stoic. Lance feels the urge to somehow defend himself against the nonexistent glare, as ridiculous as it sounds, “I didn’t- I didn’t just fuck them over like that without good reason.”

The sharp jut of a scowling mouth reminds Lance of Keith’s own. He presses the back of his head into the wall behind him, blue eyes narrowed with stagnant annoyance, “I cared about them.”

_ I still care- _

“I just...I just love my family more.” Gritting his teeth, Lance lurches forward, grabbing his own knees in a steel grip, “They have to understand! The world doesn’t fucking revolve around them!”

The silence of the small cell is resounding and frightening. Lance has to fill it somehow, he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t. He’s an outgoing person. The walls around him are bleak. His friend in the wall doesn’t speak. At least he’s only going to be there for a week, so Lotor told him. The Warden decided to go  _ easy _ on him but honestly, after even just two days of being in this hell hole, he rather have gotten beaten black and blue. 

He’s heard stories of men going insane in solitary confinement. Clawing their eyes out and bashing their heads into the walls, all that psycho bullshit. Then again, those poor souls are stuck in here for  _ years. _ Lance has just a week, just a week, and then he’ll be in gen pop again and….

And what? At the mercy of two furious firebenders with a more than justifiable grudge? 

“I don’t love them anymore. I don’t deserve to, so chill out.” The man in the wall is quiet and offers no words of advice or discontentment. Lance uses it as an excuse to continue speaking, “This is so boring. I-”

The door rattles as a slot at the foot of the metal opens, and in slides a tray of plain sticky rice, a thin slice of fish, and a cup of water. He smirks as best he can even though his heart almost leapt out of his chest and jokes, “What? No fire flakes?”

Naturally, the guard answers by slamming the slot shut again. Lance huffs, “Rude. Just tryna make good conversation.” He stands from his squat bed and grabs his tray, eyeing the pathetic meal morosely.

As he settles back onto his lumpy mattress, a disgrace to its name that smells of old sweat and urine, he pouts at his reflection in the water, “This sucks.”

  
  
  


 

 

“I won’t say it. You can’t make me.” Lance grumbles as he paces the whole three feet of his cell. “I  _ had _ to betray them! It hurt me  _ just _ as much as it hurt them!” 

His words only echo back to him, pissing him off more with his own bullshit. 

“I’ll run and I’ll  _ keep _ on running! Like hell I’ll let some ex-gangster lowlifes be the ones to take  _ me _ out!” He knows he’s doing that  _ thing _ again. The  _ thing _ Keith and Shiro always used to call him out for.

_ “Lance, you’re using your ego to hide your insecurities, again.”  _

_ “Stop being an idiot and just tell me what’s wrong, dumbass.” _

“Oh yeah, real charmers, they were!” Lance scoffs bitterly and stomps his foot, “ _ I won’t say it! _ ” 

  
  
  
  


 

“I admit it. The riot was not a well thought out plan.” Lance mutters to the single light in the ceiling on the fourth day. He turns his head to the carving in the wall, the faux man he has lovingly dubbed  _ Lei,  _ and frowns crabbily, “Happy now?”

No matter how many days have passed, Lei continues to ignore him. Lance chuckles abruptly, the sound ripping from him in a harsh rebuttal, “I’m going to go fucking crazy. I’m talking to a wall.”

Now the combined frown and crude eyes look mocking to Lance. He grunts, “Whatever. When I get out of here, I’ll face them.” After taking a deep breath, he declares dramatically, throwing his arms into the air, “I’ll march right up to them and let them do whatever they want. It’s going to happen eventually, so why even bother hiding from them.”

He curls on his side, “They’ll probably hurt me. A lot. I’m just like all those guys they disposed of in the past, now. I’m not special to them anymore. I lost that.” The emptiness that had built inside from the crushing loneliness of solitary bleeds into mortifying, sappy melancholy. “They looked at me like I was their world, y’know?”

Lei stares accusingly. 

“They were that to me, too. My world. But my family’s my universe. They can say I’m a traitor all they want but I’m as loyal as you can be. Maybe they’ll give me the time to tell them that before they vivisect me.”

_ I doubt it.  _ Lei appears to convey. It makes Lance smile twitchily.

“Keith’s still so beautiful. Shiro is...” Lance swallows heavily, his tongue swelling and heavy as a rock in his mouth. His throat kind of hurts, “They haven’t aged a day. Prison’s a good look on them, pretty sexy!” He laughs but he knows it’s forced.

“They looked really mad. Shiro was like Hei Bai! I’ve never run so fast in my life, not even when Haggard came knocking on my door.” He wipes at his eyes and sniffs deeply, grossing himself out with his own snot, “I didn’t realize it, but I’ve really missed them.”

Lei allows no pity in his stone gaze.

“I’m happy to see they’re so full of energy. I was worried prison might suck up all the good stuff about them.” Lance leans over the side of his bunk and frowns at the cup of water he left there. He twirls his index finger in small, slow circles and watches as the water follows suit. “I also miss the ocean! The Fire Nation would be better if it just had more  _ ocean. _ ” 

Lance abandons bending in favor of rolling onto his back and staring skywards. His cheeks are wet but he hardly notices. The cell, for all its downsides, is warm, at the very least. He doesn’t have to crawl underneath that questionable blanket, thankfully. 

Another good thing about solitary, if you could ever think there was a thing, is that there’s no one there to make fun of you when you act like a big sissy. Lance can sob ugly in peace, unbothered by appearances as he dwells on a past long gone and contemplates a terrifying unknown for a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate the support you all have shown me.  
> I wonder when they'll meet for real? I'm honestly writing this off the cuff of my pants. Who knows what will transpire between our heroes?  
> (Nah it'll be the next chapter, I'm tired of waiting, too.)  
> Honestly, might not update this one for awhile after this bc I have been updating it so regularly. I need to focus on my two other stories ~~that i haven't updated in a month or so~~.   
>  I also have two new story ideas and I'm really excited about them. I think one might be at least 10 chapters long, and the other probably a one shot that will eventually turn into a series of related one shots.   
> Thanks!


	6. I'm so tired of being here suppressed by all my childish fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _These wounds won't seem to heal_  
>  _This pain is just too real_  
>  _There's just too much that time cannot erase._  
>  -Evanescence, _My Immortal_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ART CREDIT TO: [@uragirinoteme](https://uragirinoteme.tumblr.com/)  
> Check them out, they have such cute fanart for the show!

Lance is scratching a cute girlfriend for Lei into the gritty stone of his cell wall when he hears the locks disengage. They  _ clank!  _ and  _ clunk!  _ for many long seconds before the large iron door swings open wide. Lance scrambles to the center of the cell, a strange surge of desperation for human contact driving his hurried movements. The female guard he now assumes is in charge of watching him steps a few slow paces inside, stopping a meter from Lance with a stoic frown set deep in the harsh line of her mouth.

Lance grins lazily even though his mind surges in confusion. Has it finally been a week? It feels like he’s been in here for a  _ month.  _ He tries to not let that show, however, as he purrs, “Great to see you again, Miss….” He pauses, dragging out his words to prompt the guard into giving him her name.

Close, but no cigar. The guard just snorts at his attempt and holds out a familiar pair of shackles, “Put these on, please.” Two other guards stand just outside the cell, peering in with unconcealed distrustful scowls. Ah yes, he was just a hazard before. Now he’s a straight  _ threat _ to prison security. Great. He really hopes Lotor hasn’t decided to move him to a more secure cell block; he was really starting to like Hunk.

“As polite as ever! That’s why I like you, Miss Guardswoman.” He willingly holds out his wrists, eager to do whatever it took to get him the hell out of this hell hole. Probably a bit  _ too _ eager.

Lance sees a flicker of a smirk cross her lips, at his expense no doubt, until they school themselves back into that passive expression. She secures his wrists and escorts him out, keeping a steady, firm grip on his upper arm. The other two guards flank them, ready to subdue him at a moment’s notice.  _ Psh, _ as if they’ll have to do anything. Lance is in no way eager to have a repeat of his experience in solitary. 

“That was just  _ wonderful,  _ would recommend it to a friend.” Lance quips to the guards, uncaring if they were actually paying attention or not, “Hotel Lotor just got an eleven out of ten, let me tell ya. The customer service was great, and the bed? Like I was sleeping on a cloud.” He’s just talking to talk at this point, happy to have actual people around (no offense to Lei) to annoy. “Not to mention the  _ privacy _ . A great getaway from the hustle and bustle of life.” He chuckles to amuse himself.

“But seriously-” Lance glances back at the cell he exited, “-that was just the worst experience ever. A week with no shower was a bit of an overkill. I stink!”

The guardswoman abruptly stops, dragging Lance to a shared halt. He peers curiously at her, his heart hammering underneath the pressure of the fear of being taken back to that tiny cell. She stares into his eyes, her bright amber irises alight with an odd emotion that he can’t place. Irritation, maybe? Pity? The other two guards’ faces are drawn, like they know what is coming. Ah shit, he isn’t about to get his ass kicked, is he?

Instead of clobbering him like he expected her to do, she instead cocks her head at the door of a nearby cell. The hall leading to his own is littered with other holdings, of which he assumed were all empty. The cell door she gestures to is as inconspicuous as the rest, labeled a simple  _ 21B  _ in freshly painted calligraphy and otherwise drab. There is a peep hole at eye level in the door covered by a thin metal plating that a guard can slide away. His brows furrow in further question.

“Let me show you something, Mr. McClain.” She pulls him to the cell door while reaching up to slide the covering out of the way. A small glass hole, doubled the size of your average coin, is the only way to view inside. She waves to it, “Go on. Look inside.”

Lance hesitates, untrusting of her words and apprehensive of what he’ll find inside. She stares unwavering at him, making it clear that they weren’t going anywhere until Lance did as she asked. He huffs and leans towards the door, shutting his right eye to peer in with his left. 

It takes a moment to focus on the cell but once he does, he is relieved to find it isn’t some horrific parody of the one he was stuck in. Same blank grey walls and overall depressingly claustrophobic atmosphere. Further inspection and a shuffle to the left reveals a low cot, the sheets rumpled and obviously used. His face scrunches as it becomes apparent that this cell is not empty. 

A young woman sits on the edge of the bed with her back to the door, making it impossible for Lance to see her face. Her hair is shaved close to her head, almost to the point of baldness, and Lance thinks he spys a strange tattoo etched into the base of her cranium. Her build is naturally petite and yet she is still worryingly skinny, noticeable even under the baggy jumper, like she hasn’t eaten well in years. Her head is cocked upwards as if she is staring off into space, feature indiscernible. 

Lance is wary. He pulls away from the peep hole to shoot the guardswoman a befuddled look, “Who is she? Why are you showing her to me?”

The guardswoman’s expression is hidden by her helmet but Lance can hear traces of anger in her tone. At what, he is unsure, but he gets the feeling it isn’t directed towards him. “Her name is Narti. She has been in solitary for seven years now.”

Lance inhales sharply, features pulling into tight disbelief and indignation. Seven years? He couldn’t even  _ imagine _ what torment this Narti must be experiencing, what hell she has been resigned to. He could hardly handle a  _ week. _

She continues to talk, “I show her to you, Mr. McClain, to remind you of your luck. The Warden showed you a great mercy. Never,  _ ever, _ take freedom for granted. You might be a waterbender incarcerated in a Fire Nation prison, but, I assure you, there are fates far worse.”

The waterbender thinks back on his words and complaints. He must look like a total tool, bitching about a week when Narti’s been in there for years. Guilt and shame, two familiar emotions, rear their filthy heads within and he finds he can’t keep eye contact with the guardswoman. His eyes drop to the ground and she closes the hatch, once more alienating Narti from the rest of the world. He pities Narti. A strong, righteous part of him wants to release her; daydreams of throwing open her cell door and showing her the sky again. 

Those thoughts sadden him more so he locks them away as the guardswoman seizes his arm again. He nibbles on the inside of his lip for a few paces before asking softly, “What could she have done?”

“Hm?” The guardswoman hums quizzically.

“Nine years is a long time,” He elaborates, “what did she do to deserve it?”

Lance hears a hissed breath of a scoff and he turns his head to see a sardonic smile darkening her face. She flashes it his way and states, “She betrayed someone who loved her too much.”

And that just doesn’t sit right with Lance. What does that even  _ mean?  _ Is she referencing his own sorry circumstance? Nevertheless, he accepts the guardswoman’s strange answer and escapes as quickly as he can from the bowels of Bouldergate.

He tries to keep Narti locked somewhere ambiguous in the back of his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Upon entering the upper levels of the prison, Lance discovers that it is evening, just shortly after dinner. He mourns the loss of a meal but swiftly perks up when the guards inform him that he is just in time to hit the showers. 

“Thank the spirits, I’m fucking filthy.” The waterbender quips with a happy smile regardless of the shackles that dig painfully into his bony wrists. “So how does this work, exactly?”

The guardswoman responds, keeping her voice low as they navigate the passageway to the male showers. Lance isn’t surprised that she is still stuck to his side, considering. “You will have five minutes to clean yourself. You will be watched every second so don’t try anything.”

A dirty smirk stretches across Lance’s mouth and his tongue darts out to tease along his lips theatrically. He bats his lashes at the guardswoman, to which she only glares dispassionately, and drawls, “Voyeurism, huh? How’d you know that’s my favorite kink?”

She continues to scowl, eyes so unblinking that even Lance begins to feel a tad awkward. Huh. Usually he gets anger or irritation or embarrassment in response to his clever jokes. Apathy is a new one.

Lance glances over at one of the other guards, a larger man with a bottom lip so swollen it reminds Lance of a stuffed sausage. He flashes his best smile and sighs dramatically, with a lackadaisical shrug of his shoulders, “Tough crowd, huh?”

As expected, the guard ignores him, but listen, Lance is  _ positive _ there’s a little twitch of a smile there! Lance rolls his eyes high to the sky but decides to keep to just bothering the guardswoman for the rest of their walk. 

The showers are as bland and hospitalesque as he expected. Each cubicle has walls that only reach to the bottom of the torso, leaving the rest of the body exposed. The spout is a metal tube sticking out of the wall without a proper head and there is only one dial. ‘Water on’ and ‘water off’ are his only two options. He doesn’t care. He grew up in the Northern Water Tribe, a bit of cold water wasn’t going to deter him from getting a thorough cleaning. It took ages to heat up water there so Lance often skipped the luxuries when he was younger, content with a brisk dip in icy waters in order to get to training faster.

A few of the stalls further down in the room are occupied and Lance politely adverts his gaze from any naked skin as he turns to the guardswoman. He lifts his wrists and she unshackles him, jutting her chin towards the nearest cubicle, “You’ll go in that one. Easier to keep an eye on you.”

Lance grins at her, twirling ostentatiously on his heel, “Feel free to join me anytime, hon.” He winks at the male guards as well, “You guys, too.”

Oh no, no, he  _ definitely _ got a stifled chuckle just now. He’ll wear them down, just wait!

Now, Lance isn’t afraid to show off his body. Nudity doesn’t mean much to him and he had his fair share of communal shower debacles. He was a constant loyal customer of a nearby public bathhouse in the Fire Nation city he once lived in, him  _ and  _ Keith and Shiro. 

Lance undresses quickly, occasionally throwing a smirk or a flirty pout the guardswoman’s way as he strips of the dirty prison jumper. She steadily ignores him, as stoic as ever. He frowns down at his outfit and takes a quick sniff at the collar, wincing at the abhorrent stench of body odor. Damn it, he’s going to have to put that back on! With a flamboyant sigh he balls them up and deposits them on a nearby shelf. 

He thinks on how much time he has left and jumps into action, determined to wipe away the powerful stink of his body. There’s a used bar of soap in a little dish beside the valve and he scrunches his nose in distaste. Oh well, get what you get. The dial twists with an annoying screech of metal on metal and a few seconds’ wait has the water shooting out at an impressive speed. At least the pressure wasn’t awful. Lance gets to work, picking up the bar and scrubbing furiously at every bit of skin he can reach.

He can feel the eyes of the guards jump over to him every now and again but he pays them no mind. They can’t see his family jewels or his ass crack as he cleans them so he doesn’t really have much to complain about. The water is, as he guessed,  _ fucking freezing _ but is so refreshing on his desert skin he hardly notices. The call inside to twirl his wrists, to manipulate the flow into a dazzling dance above their heads, is impressively loud. He opens his mouth to catch a taste of the metallic water and wishes it was the freshwater of the North he drinks. 

Someone moves outside of his cubicle but he ignores the noises, figuring they were other inmates heading to their own showers. He smiles softly into the harsh stream, letting the water beat mercilessly into his face.

Being doused in his element feels like a kiss on the back of his nape, comfort that comes in the form of icy skin pressing tantalizingly into his. He is so placated by finally feeling that liquid heaven run down his spine that he doesn’t even bemoan having to use average lye soap to wash his hair. It is bliss, being caught in the embrace of what symbolizes home and love and childhood. 

Terribly soon, the guardswoman barks at him over the running water, breaking him out of his rapture to tell him that shower time is over. He robotically shuts off the valve, his damp skin already anticipating the return to this paradise the following day, and turns away from the spicket. He finds that a worn towel has been hung from the side of the stall, apparently for his use. His eyebrows raise in surprise; he hadn’t even remembered he would need a towel until now. He shoots a curious glance the guardswoman’s way only to see her flicking her eyes in an obvious gesture further into the showers. 

Lance follows her gaze and discovers a smiling Hunk only two stalls away from him, bare as the day he was born and washing his pits with a cheerful hummed tun. The waterbender chuckles to himself and waves a bit, catching the other inmate’s attention. He holds up the towel with a respectful nod, “Thanks, man.”

Hunk raises his left arm above his head to let the water wash out the suds beneath, “Sure. How was hell?”

“Hell was nice and quiet, you should check it out some time.” Lance is quick to joke back, excited to have someone to laugh with. “I’ll tell you all the juicy details back home, eh?”

Snorting, Hunk gives a derisive smirk, “Yeah, ‘home,’ if that’s what you wanna call it.”

Lance laughs, “Well, I-”

“ _ Any _ day now, McClain.” Comes the snap of his  _ favorite _ guardswoman. He turns to see her eyeing his lack of clothes in irritation, obviously peeved he hasn’t dressed yet. 

He hurries to dry himself off and dress himself, pouting at the grossness of his dirty uniform. He drapes the towel over his shoulders and grins at the guardswoman as he approaches her, leaning in towards her just shy of too much, “Well, you’ve seen me naked now, Miss Guardswoman. I think I should know your name, at least.”

Unimpressed, the guardswoman just grabs his arm again and drags him off, the other two guards trailing decisively behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s been a week.” Mutters Keith as he stretches his body across his bunk, an open book covering his face and muffling his words. The cover reads  _ The Cave of Two Lovers, _ written in delicate, inky calligraphy and fading into a backdrop of the brown hills of Omashu. Shiro recommended it to him for some light reading but he can hardly get past page thirty. Tragic romances aren’t really his genre of choosing. 

Shiro hums softly, his focus purely on the strokes of his brush on parchment. He is trying his hand at painting what he remembers of Ba Sing Se’s massive outer walls and the train system within. He has a very good memory but something feels off within the painting, like it’s missing something important. Not being able to put his finger on it, Shiro brushes off the instinct to instead watch how the ink curves beautifully at his command. 

“Did you hear me, Shiro? It’s been a week. It’s technically been  _ more _ than a week.” Shiro can hear concern in his boyfriend’s tone, corrupting his gruff speech like a tea laced with poison. Keith takes the book off his face to glare at Shiro, expression stormy to hide the conflict inside, “You don’t think Lotor put him in for longer, do you? Lance can’t- that’s not  _ good _ for him!”

Shiro’s chest constricts at the unwarranted image of Lance, all alone, stuck in a tiny cell  _ forever. _ He banishes the thought quickly and sets his brush down on the ink stand, careful to not let the handle dip into the blackness. Turning to his lover from his spot on the floor, Shiro attempts to placate him while craning his neck, “Hunk said he would inform us once Lance was released. He’ll be the first to know. Lance is probably already in his cell and Hunk just hasn’t headed back to it yet.”

“Then we should go there!” Keith demands, “Wait for him there.”

Shiro shakes his head, “No, Keith, you know how Hunk gets when we visit his cell.”

Keith rolls his eyes with a grumble, “Yeah, yeah, we chase away business, scare new buyers off.”

“Exactly, and we respect Hunk’s promises. Let him come to us like he said he would. You know his word is gold.”

“I’m not doubting him, Shiro,” Keith sounds insulted that the older man would even think that, “I just-”

“Want to see Lance, I understand-”

“Well, here I am. See away.”

Shiro and Keith fall deathly silent and their gazes instantly lock onto the entrance to their cell, startlingly in synch. Keith’s breath catches and flounders uselessly out his parted lips, weak and unnoticeable. Shiro is so still he might as well be crafted of marble, face drawn into hard stony lines and deep shadows.

Lance stands at the threshold, one hand perched almost daintily on the bars and the other clenched into a tight fist. His expression is worrisomely calm, as flat and disinterested as a cup of cold sake, but the slightest trembling in his fingers betrays the riptide of emotion within his core. Up close one would see goosebumps breaking out across his skin and the hair raising on the back of his neck like a spirit were breathing there. 

Shiro openly stares at Lance as if in disbelief. Lance doesn’t blame him. He’s pretty shocked he really decided to go through with this after all. Lance chances a peek Keith’s way, his heart giving an unhelpful leap at the raw  _ want _ there. Unlike years prior, it isn’t a sexual sort of want. 

_ No, he swants to kill me, not fuck me. _

Lance takes a shuddering breath, rushes on to say, his voice pitifully small, “I, uh, figured we could get this awkward stage out of the way. I was tired of running.”

Neither Shiro or Keith answer him. Lance licks his lips out of nervousness before he forces himself to turn to steel inside. He hoods his eyes and cocks his hip out, tilting his head to the right to give himself a flirtatious air. A shark grin cuts ugly across his chapped lips, mordant in its nature, “So, you boys gonna let me in or just stare at me all night?”  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, remember how i said I wasn't going to update any time soon? yeah, I'm a filthy, filthy liar. burn me.  
> As usual, thank you for reading. I appreciate all of you.  
> I recently discontinued another fic of mine and it weighs heavy on my mind. I hate leaving things half done but it had to happen. It makes me very sad, considering how much time and effort (and money) I put into it.


	7. Without 40 oz. of social skills, I'm just an ass in the crack of humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I want you to watch cartoons with me_  
>  _He-Man, Voltron and Hong Kong Phooey_  
>  _I tried to ask you to your face but no words came out_  
>  _I put on my hood and walked away_  
>  _That doesn't mean I don't like you"_  
>  -The Moldy Peaches, _Nothing Came Out_

Lance could eat his whole foot right now. Better yet, punch himself repeatedly in the face for ever thinking this had even the  _ remotest  _ of resemblance to a good idea. He hopes they’ll deny his request to enter their cell, that they’ll scream in his face and force him away. The thoughtless anger would be better than whatever this weird tension is. Won’t it break already? He has already lost his tentative flirty smile at the turbulence he receives.

Shiro and Keith continue to stare directly at him, bodies taunt with a palpable stress that pulls their muscles tight like springs. Their gazes, for lack of a better term, are nerve-racking. In the past Lance always compared their focused attentions to that of wolves; keen, intelligent, piercing through their targets with the precision of master swordsmen, able to stop a man dead in his tracks. Or, as it was once in Lance’s case, able to cause a heart to beat straight out of its chest.

Lance’s eyes flutter nervously away from their collective watches and down to the abandoned painting laying on the ground before Shiro’s knees. The black strokes of a practiced hand are painfully familiar to him, and Shiro has only gotten better in the years they’ve been apart. Lance wants to point it out but his hands won’t follow through with the motion. Instead his fingers only briefly twitch Shiro’s way from where they dangle uselessly at his hip as he says, maybe a bit too loudly, “Still painting. Good. Uh, you’re good at it.”

Shiro’s fists clench overtop his knees but otherwise he does not respond to Lance’s words.

In true Lance McClain fashion he continues to idiotically ramble anyways, “So it’s good you’re still painting. You-you could sell them, they’re that good….”

“Like you came here,” Mutters Keith who has since moved to the edge of his bunk as if to stretch his body to Lance, “to compliment paintings.” Lance hadn’t noticed him moving while he was staring at Shiro and the change in position almost startles him enough into fleeing. Like a dog with its tail between its legs. It’s cowardly and pathetic but Lance is  _ afraid. _

Keith’s voice. It’s rough and low, like always of course ( _ why would it change, Lance? _ ), as if Keith took the time this morning to gurgle gravel. It strikes a cord inside that Lance thought he’d long lost before sinking, a solid mass made of stone, into the pits of his guts. He isn’t sure if it’s elation, fear, or arousal he experiences when Keith speaks to him, isn’t sure he wants to know. 

Swallowing a lump of terror the size of Ba Sing Sei down his shaking throat, Lance nods dumbly, “Yeah-ah, no, I mean, no, I didn’t come here to talk about art.” His fingers decide to grip themselves around the bars of the open cell entrance, turning white under exertion. He discovers that his limbs are slowly taking a mind of their own and wonders how long he’ll be able to keep them from springing into flight.

Shiro’s storm grey eyes flicker to them, narrow by a fraction. He knows Lance’s body language like he knows Keith’s,  _ damn well.  _ Lance is regretting his decision. He wants to run. No way in hell will Shiro allow that. 

The eldest man suddenly rising to his feet startles Lance just enough that he begins to tilt his body away, poised to burst into motion to escape whatever might come for his neck. It is instinct, the primal need to evade this natural born predator. Shiro’s palm pressing flat and strong onto Keith’s shoulder keeps him at bay, and Lance almost laughs because Shiro has  _ always _ been the only one that could possibly control the volatile firebending prodigy. Lance never had the full extent of that ability, even when Keith was desperately in love with him.

Shiro keeps his body open and unthreatening, his metal arm remaining by his side to avoid spooking Lance again. He admits that perhaps  _ chasing _ after Lance like a pair of psychos was not the best option but...Lance is  _ here.  _ In Bouldergate Penitentiary, with  _ them.  _ It’s fate, a miracle, clear as day! Excuse him if he got a little excited about it. He schools his expression into calmness, manages to have his voice sound light, “Please come in, Lance. We won’t hurt you.”

Something twitches in Lance’s gut and churns distrustfully, making him feel sickly.  _ Don’t vomit, don’t vomit, don’t vomit, PLEASE don’t vomit.  _ His recalcitrant mind scrambles to settle on an air to show, writhing like a injured worm until it finally chooses humorous mockery. His favorite. Lance’s smile is back, cheeky to the point of scorn, and he pushes himself from his leaning rest against the threshold, “Sure.” His tone is obviously disbelieving, “Gonna offer me a seat?”

Shiro’s fingers grip tighter into Keith’s shoulder, almost painfully, when the younger man’s muscles tremble in an attempt at movement. He allows a polite slope to shape his mouth and nods, “Of course.” He gestures to the stool beside the entrance and Lance sinks into it. 

Lance plops his back against the stone of the cell wall and adopts a carefree disposition, legs parting in a boyish spread and arms crossing at his broad chest. He may flash his pretty pearly whites in a mockery of a sanguine grin but both Shiro and Keith can see the frayed nerves in the harsh iciness of his deep blues. They jump and skitter too much for carelessness. His fingers dig too deeply into the bare flesh of his toned arms for unconcern. They can sense his fear a mile away. Shiro isn’t entirely positive if he wants it this way or not.

On one hand, there is the obvious elephant in the room. Lance’s betrayal. If Lance hadn’t framed them and trapped them for the police to nab, then they wouldn’t be in this mess. Not to mention, afterwards, Shiro and Keith got word that Lance received quite the hefty payout for their detention. The police were nowhere close to catching Keith and Shiro without red-handed hard evidence. Keith and Shiro have every right to want him dead for his shocking sellout. Lance’s terror is well founded.

But, on the other, there is one very simple, inarguable fact: Keith and Shiro are still in love with Lance. Call it the dregs of their passionate affair before, or something stronger, something  _ more _ , regardless, they still adore Lance. Their love for him demands a different reason, a secret explanation for his deceit. 

Lance doesn’t like how they continue to stare without speaking so he sighs, smile slipping into an expression so tired that is hurts them to see, “Look, it’s almost lockdown, can we at least discuss this a little before I have to leave?”

Keith’s fingers intertwine into the fabric of his coarse bed sheets and he barks, “Yeah, we can  _ discuss _ it. What the fuck, Lance?”

Lance winces at Keith’s rough tone, stomach jumping uncomfortably again. He eyes how close Shiro is and, even though the smallness of the cell demands the proximity, scoots further against the wall. Lance is familiar with Keith’s many voices, but not this one. Not this one that so thinly veils pain with a forced toughness. An aggression that Keith once would never have used with him. Lance’s heart hurts but he knows he deserves their rage and their pain. He will accept only the full brunt of it.

“Keith-” Even  _ saying _ his name, to his face, cuts deeply into all of their throats.

But Keith interrupts before Lance can continue, determined to get his say in before Shiro inevitably intervenes. His face is pulled into a distorted, strange scowl, half of his face tugging towards fury and the other drooping downwards into sorrow, “After everything we did together?! After everything we’ve been through?! We  _ trusted  _ you, we  _ killed  _ for you!”

The lump in Lance’s throat only gets bigger and wider with every word Keith spits. He won’t cry, not in front of them; they’ll only think he’s doing it for sympathy-

“You and Shiro- you were  _ everything _ to me- and you give us up?! We protected you and cared about you and-and fucking tied ourselves around your little finger-” Keith curses and grits his teeth, still kept in place by Shiro’s hand on his shoulder. Lance knows he wants to leap at him, pick him up and slam him into the wall by the neck and scream his soul from his body. And it is only fair.

He continues to rant, violet irises flashing with a sort of fury that Lance hasn’t been privy to before, “How could you just  _ sell us out _ like that? Tell me, Lance, how much did Haggar give you, huh?” He’s working himself up now, such a  _ Keith _ action that Lance’s insides throb painfully. Keith presses and fights against Shiro’s grip, obviously growing irritated by it, “Shi-  _ Takashi _ , fucking let go of me-” He finally breaks out of Shiro’s weakening grasp and slides off the bunk to stand beside his lover. 

Lance’s knees shoot together at the abrupt movement and he finds he can no longer sit while they loom overhead like the sword of Damocles. He rises to his feet slowly, as to not incite a violent or wary reaction, and stares down at his hands as they pick and prod at each other. 

“How much, huh?” Demands Keith, “A few gold pieces? A few bags of silver? Were we even worth that much?”

Lance recalls exactly how much he was given for staging their arrests. He doesn’t want to say it but feels as though he hasn’t much choice. Remaining silent is easy with how much his tongue has swollen inside his cotton mouth.

“Fucking damn it-  _ look at us! _ ” Snarls Keith as he takes a threatening step forward. Shiro’s hand darts out to snatch Keith’s right wrist, locking it in a steely hold and reminding him that neither of them have the intentions of physically harming Lance. Keith inhales deeply through his nose and refuses to speak until Lance, excruciatingly slow, raises his eyes to make contact. Keith is almost startled by the wetness he discovers there.

Shiro speaks up, voice deceptively even, “Please answer the question, Lance.”

The waterbender’s gaze flickers over to Shiro’s before quickly dropping again, much to their frustration. Guilt and shame burn Lance’s cheeks hot as he mutters, “My...” He clears his throat and lifts his stare again from the floor to jumping between their expressions, “My mother received three chests of gold pieces for your capture.”

The two convicts are silent for a split moment, stuck watching Lance with twin faces of disbelief. Ever the renegade, Keith breaks the silence first, mouth twisting into a cruel smile as he snorts, “You expect me to believe that you got  _ nothing _ out of it?”

“Keith….” Shiro warns.

“You,” Keith carries on regardless, “are going stand here and  _ lie _ to our faces and say you didn’t touch any of it?”

Lance’s brows furrow as discontented anger cuts through the thickness of his remorse, “Not even a single copper piece.” He hisses at Keith through his teeth before he elaborates, “I had it all sent to my family. So they could use it to get the hell out of occupied territory, and as far from the Galra Gang as possible. They left the day after you two were arrested and I haven’t seen them, or that money, since.”

Shiro latches onto that, speaking before Keith has the chance to, “Why didn’t you go with them, Lance? Why risk facing the same fate?” It doesn’t make much sense to Shiro. Lance adores his family. The only reason he was even in Fire Nation territory is because of the need to provide for them.

Lance’s face darkens, hardening into something battle torn and stoic, “I had no choice. Haggar had me by the throat. I was stuck doing her dirty work until a few weeks ago, when I forced to take the fall for Sendak and Throk.”

Keith breaks into a mocking jeer, a sinister twist on the lovely sound Lance used to do anything to cause, and smirks dastardly at him, “Karma is a bitch, huh? They did the same to you as you did to us.”

Having no control over his own stupid tongue, Lance spits pure venom, “At least  _ I  _ wasn’t stupid enough to  _ fuck  _ my traitors.”

Eyes flashing and teeth baring into a monsterous grimace, Keith jerks forward to fist the collar of Lance’s jumper, effortlessly hauling the waterbender forward and getting into his face. He breathes heavily through his clenched teeth, spit springing from his mouth and onto Lance’s face. “How  _ dare _ you-!”

Lance’s face pales fearfully, his fingers shaking as they instinctively latch onto Keith’s fist to pull at it. They only rest almost gently there, however, Lance not willing to actually put up a fight against Keith. A part of him  _ wants _ Keith to throw him around, to beat him black and blue for his betrayal. It thinks Lance deserves what’s coming to him, and Lance is more than inclined to agree.

“Keith! Let go of him  _ immediately! _ ” Barks Shiro as he grabs Keith by the scruff of his neck and drags him backwards, away from Lance’s personal space and into his own. He shoots Lance a withering glare that terrifies him more than Keith’s outburst.

Lance realizes what he said was fucked, and he trips over his words in an effort to apologize, “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I didn’t mean that, honestly, I’m  _ sorry- _ ”

“Then what  _ did _ you mean, Lance?!” Keith snaps, face taking on that pained, constipated look again, “Let’s go back, huh? Did you mean it?!”

Lance is confused for a moment, eyebrows tugging upwards and together in a show of it, “I-what-”

“He means,” Shiro reiterates, “our relationship, before all of this. Did you mean it? Did you ever love us? Like we loved you?”

_ Like we loved you.  _

Lance’s chest constricts and his heart snaps in two. Two little perfect, equal pieces to hand off to two perfect men. A lone tear escapes his conscious control, dripping loosely down his cheek. Keith’s eyes track it curiously.

“I-yes.” Lance says, words jumbling and mixing together as they rush to exit his bumbling mouth, “Yes, I loved you two. I loved you two  _ so  _ much.”  _ I still do, fuck, I love you two so fucking much.  _

Keith closes his eyes and presses his palms to them, digging in until he sees white explode behind his lids. His lover, whose hands have since moved to the small of his back, begins to rub soothing circles along his hips. He isn’t sure if the comfort is for him or for Shiro, but either way it does little to calm the torrent inside. 

“Then…” Murmurs Shiro, tone surprisingly small for someone so powerful, “...why? Why did you give us up?”

Lance outwardly flinches at the question, obviously dreading having to answer it. There have been an infinite number of times where Lance imagined this very moment in the past two years. The settings of their imaginary discussions ranged from raging battle fields to calm tea houses, from night to day, from fury to relief. Some ended in heartbreak and tragedy; other times, when Lance missed them the most, he imagined them forgiving him. He fantasized Keith kissing his neck roughly and calling him an idiot for ever doubting them, dreamed of Shiro murmuring in his sleepy baritone,  _ “Everything is going to be just fine, Lance. Just fine.” _

But this is reality. And everything is not just fine. It will never be just fine again.

Shakily, voice damp with unshed tears, Lance answers, “Haggar, she...she threatened my family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, guys. For REALSIES this time I will actually be either updating my [Superman Never Made any Money](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184633/chapters/32696067) klance fic or posting a whole new one shot before I update this. Maybe. Hopefully. I just love this story so much????  
> I got a job serving, yeet. I am very good at it. Brainless work. I want money. I need money.   
> Next chapter will be more angst and a tagic backstory that y'all saw coming probably. Anyways..........bye.


	8. My love's an iron ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I was a heavy heart to carry_  
>  _My feet dragged across the ground_  
>  _And he took me to the river_  
>  _Where he slowly let me drown."_  
>  -Florence + the Machine, _Heavy In Your Arms._

**TWO YEARS PRIOR TO LANCE’S IMPRISONMENT**

 

“Lance, my favorite little abomination, how do you fare?”

Well, if Lance was to be perfectly honest, he would say,  _ not so well, you creepy fucking hag.  _ But honesty is not always the best policy, as firebenders would have you find out. So, as he’s prone to do, Lance lies through his teeth, “I’m fine, Lady Haggar.” 

_ Abomination  _ is just one of the many words his boss loves to use for waterbenders like him. He’s thankful it’s that and not one of the more personally insulting ones. It’s almost funny, Lance would wring the neck of any bastard who tried to speak to him like she does, but in her presence he’s a whipped dog. Her little bitch. He doesn’t feel too bad about it though, everyone around here is. 

The stoic expression on her wrinkled face, seemingly carved from marble, sends chills down Lance’s spine. She watches him silently, to all appearing passive but Lance knows better. She can see right through him, knows everything about him. He resists wringing his hands where they lay dormant in his lap, denies the urge to wet his dry mouth.

Haggar’s head tilts ever so, like a vulture surveying roadkill, and she asks, “How did the Cheung target turn out?” Her voice is rough and throaty, as if she hardly ever uses it. It makes his hair stand on end.

“It went without issue, miss. The gold has been locked within Master’s vaults.” Answers Lance robotically, the boy careful to keep his tone devoid of emotion.

“Good boy. You are quite talented in thievery.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Haggar is silent for a second or two, and while they are short in time they feel like forever to Lance. He wants to fidget in his seat but remains motionless. Haggar’s milky amber eyes blink slowly, like a cat, “Do you enjoy it, boy?”

_ Abomination. Boy.  _ She has never called Lance by his name. He is unsure if that’s a bad thing or not. “I do what must be done, miss.”

She nods shallowly, mulling over those words. He takes the quiet moment to let his gaze drag over her straight white hair and hooked nose. She has the sort of features that imply that she was pretty in her youth, but time has been nothing but cruel to her. Haggar is not ugly, Lance thinks, but neither is she beautiful. Lance brings himself back to attention when she takes a breath to speak, “‘What must be done,’ yes. We all must do what must be done.”

Lance doesn’t like her tone of voice. She wants something from him. He stays silent and thinks of the two men waiting for him back home.  _ Just do as she says and you’ll be able to see them again. _

“That is a strong mindset to have. An honorable one.” Haggar is like a statue, even with her jaw working to form words. It’s nerve racking. “Recently a shipment of ours was discovered by the authorities. You know of this, yes?”

How could he not? Everyone in or even remotely associated with the Galra have been talking about it. And of course the drugs were found by the only police  _ not _ bought off by Haggar. Damn self-righteous idiots. Lance nods, “Yes, miss.”

“So you know how dire of a situation this is.” She states it rather than asks.

Regardless she is correct and he nods in agreement.

Haggar continues, “Good. I imagine you were told by your lovers the moment it happened.”

Lance’s heart stutters weakly in his chest, and his shock shows only for a moment in the widening of his eyes. He quickly schools his expression back into calmness but it’s too late. He asks, “Lady Haggar, might I ask what you mean?”

Something akin to humor flashes across Haggar’s face and Lance represses a disgusted shiver. That can’t mean anything good. “Your... _ affections, _ ” She says with no little distaste, nose wrinkling pompously, “are painfully obvious. You did not seriously think they were any secret, did you?”

Lance’s fingers tighten on his kneecaps as he refuses to answer verbally.

He doesn’t have to, Haggar has all she needs from his minute facial changes. “The coupling of a firebender to  _ your _ kind is not a particularly welcomed occurrence, you understand.”

Oh, Lance understands alright. He’s gotten the  _ fire is the superior element  _ chit-chat loads of times. If there’s something Fire Nation supremacists hate more than waterbenders, it’s inter-element relationships.  _ Especially  _ with water.  _ I mean, why would you want to fuck something that’s worth less than dirt?  _ Lance thinks humorlessly to himself.

“But at least there will not be  _ another _ abomination birthed from it. We may be grateful for that.” Haggar growls, “And it cannot be said that your relationship with Shirogane and Kogane will bear no fruit.”

Lance swallows shallowly at that, chest constricting fearfully at her tone of voice. His own is shaky as he implores, “And why is that, miss?”

Yet Haggar ignores his question, instead moving for the first time since Lance arrived to open a drawer at her desk and pull out a thick scroll of parchment. His breath snags gracelessly in the back of his throat when he spots the familiar characters of his family name inked almost delicately on the seal. His boss uses her sharp thumb nail to pop the seal and free the paper, unrolling until a manageable foot of it is revealed. 

If one was curious as to why Lance,  _ the  _ Lance (y’know, residential spitfire, sarcastic ladies’ man, total smartass?), would ever bend over and spread ‘em for a bitch like Haggar, this is why right here.

His family registry, scripted in traditional Northern Water Tribe format, in the palm of her hand.

Not only does Haggar know  _ who _ his family is, but she knows  _ where  _ they are. This could spell mad trouble for the McClains for a few good reasons. Haggar could ‘accidentally’ (and those are some dramatically exaggerated hand quotations there, folks) lose the registry and it could ‘accidentally’ end up in the hands of the local guard unit. Or, it could find itself copied and plastered on every inch of public property near his mother’s workplace.

Or, Lance’s  _ personal favorite,  _ Haggar could get rid of the middle man and straight up  _ murder _ his  _ entire  _ family. Once word gets out that they were a bunch of waterbenders hiding in plain sight, not many tears would be shed.

“Your mother works at the Snarling Bear inn and bar, does she not?” Haggar reads information directly off the paper, obviously having added to it since it came to her possession.

Lance grunts an affirmative.

Haggar’s eyes glint maliciously, “You will use words with me, boy. Just because you are water tribe doesn’t mean you have to act like a brainless animal as the rest of them do.”

The waterbender sees red and his nails dig painfully into his palms. He doesn’t notice how they bleed, only stares sightlessly past Haggar’s head as he hisses through clenched teeth, “Yes, miss. She does.”

“And your older brother, he does construction work in the city.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Construction work, a seedy bar...dangerous work.”

Lance releases a harsh breath and snaps his gaze to Haggar’s, terror and fury two conflicting forces yet mixing so seamlessly within him. He speaks slowly, to stop himself from shouting obscenities at the woman. That would only draw the attention of the two bozos outside and that is so not how he wants his day to go, “I understand what you are trying to say, miss. What do you need from me?”

Haggar does something strange then, something so ominous and, frankly,  _ gross _ that he gets every urge to run the hell out of there, urges that he has to smother. She smiles at him, so soft he wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t been so monotonous, “That is why I can stand you when I cannot stomach others of your tribes. You are  _ such _ a hard worker, ready to do whatever needs to be done.” Lance is quiet. Haggar doesn’t mind, “I can even say that I like you. Good behavior should be rewarded.”

_ Warning, warning, warn-  _

“I am returning your family registry to you.” She rolls it swiftly and tightly, retrieving a thin leather band to tie around the swell of it. Lance can hardly believe it as she slides it across the desk to him, his light eyes glued to it as if afraid it might burst to life to take a bite out of his hand. 

Haggar chuckles lowly at his reaction, “Go on.” She urges, “Take it. I will not stop you.”

Lance glances up at the woman, apprehensive and flighty, before he looks back down and snatches at it with a trembling hand. The parchment is as smooth as he remembers it being, obviously having been taken well care of while with Haggar. He is almost surprised.

She leans back in her chair as he clutches it to his chest. He watches her like a rabbit watches a snake, “What’s the catch?”

“For that?” She shakes her head, “No catch. Think of it as a  _ payment _ of sorts. For your hard work.” Then she reaches up to tap her temple with one bony finger, and Lance notices that her sharp nails are painted a deep crimson. A fashionable color of the Fire Nation, naturally. She continues, “This, however...this will cost another sacrifice.”

His blood runs cold and his palms turn sweaty. Of course, of fucking course, he might have his registry in hand but that doesn’t mean Haggar hasn’t memorized every one of the names and faces of his family members. He isn’t out of the woods yet. 

When he speaks, his voice is tight and pained, “Sa...sacrifice?”

Haggar nods, blinks even slower, “Tell me, waterbender, what matters most to you? The love of your family, or the love of your faithful boyfriends?”

 

* * *

 

 

**PRESENT DAY**

 

“It wasn’t even a question.” Finishes Lance, voice small and vacant, “My family is most important.”

He doesn’t want to but he forces himself to drag his gaze from the floor and to the two men staring in open shock and anger at him. Lance is reminded painfully of the aching turmoil that day as he gauges their torn reactions. 

“I’m not proud of what I did, okay?” Lance bites out, “But I had to do it. You know what Haggar can do, my family wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Keith makes a wounded noise and Lance jerks back, the back of his knees knocking against the seat of the stool. The firebender’s violet eyes are more furious than ever, burning hot like his element. He takes an intimidating step forward, pulling against Shiro’s firm hold on him, and snarls like a wild animal, “So you just  _ fuck us over?  _ We could have  _ helped  _ you, Lance! We could have  _ protected _ your family!”

Keith’s always been good at riling Lance up, and vice versa. They always joked that they would have killed each other ages ago had Shiro not been there to balance them out, and Lance is suddenly reminded as to why that was. Keith is just too damn hot-headed and Lance can’t  _ fucking stand him.  _ Vicious anger rises like boiling steam in his belly as he snaps incredulously, “What the fuck could you have done?! You two were just as under her thumb as I was!”

“I would have burned that bitch to a crisp the  _ moment  _ you asked for it!” Keith juts his pointer fingers into Lance’s chest roughly, likely bruising it. 

Lance slaps it away, ignoring the spike of fear that weaves itself through the fury at Keith’s expression of pure murderous intent, “She was too strong, Keith! Look at Shiro’s  _ arm,  _ for fuck’s sake!” The waterbender gestures widely at Shiro’s prosthetic limb, his fingers brushing brusquely against both the wall and Keith’s chest. The cell is small and doesn’t allow much room for movement.

Keith looks like he’d love to grab that hand and just  _ break  _ it, but the man only continues to holler, “Don’t you fucking talk about that! You don’t  _ deserve  _ to talk about that-”

Shiro abruptly ends the pissing match by grabbing the back of Keith’s collar and tugging him behind his larger body, effectively pinning him against the pole of their bunks. The younger firebender’s breath escapes him in a  _ oof!  _ that has Lance’s heart skipping a beat with worry. 

Frowning at Lance with a mixture of resignation and pain, Shiro grunts, “Lance, thank you for opening up to us,” he shoots an elbow back into Keith’s vulnerable side in retaliation for an attempted headbutt, “and having the courage and maturity to approach us first. I think what Keith’s getting at is that we just need some time.”

Lance glances at Keith and flinches at the deep set scowl there, his worry quickly morphing back into uglier anger. He huffs a frustrated and stodgy laugh, eyes flitting off to the left where he can see the walls by their bunks, “Yeah, alright. It’s just about light’s out anyways. I-” His voice dies as his breath hitches.

There are five paintings on the wall beside their bunks to decorate the dreary cell, some larger than others but all equally as detailed and well crafted. Two of them are random locations that Lance thinks are somewhere in the Earth Kingdom: a long and treacherous mountain path, and a small island with a big sandy beach. The other three are more familiar to him. He would sure hope he’d recognize them as he stares at that lovely mug every time he looks in the mirror.

Shiro is a fantastic artist. It’s a shame he’s in prison when he could be free and selling his wondrous works for a pretty gold piece or two. The talent is blatantly showcased in three varying portraits of Lance himself, each showing the waterbender in different positions and expressions. The first one, on the wall of the bottom bunk, is Lance fast asleep, curled within a blanket with his head on somebody’s broad chest. The light casts softly off the planes of his face, making him appear younger and calmer. 

Lance looks to the second one, a piece more aggressive than the first. Lance is depicted with a broken bottle in hand, blood dripping in a steady current from his left nostril and his cheek bruised. He recalls the scene from the day he first met Keith and Shiro, in his mom’s bar so long ago, after a pai-sho match went wrong. The painted Lance’s narrowed eyes are the only things colored in the piece, a flaming bright blue so vibrant it challenged lightning. Did he really look so formidable that day? Was that Shiro’s first impression of him?

The final painting makes his cheeks warm. The Lance on paper’s shame is only saved by a short loincloth tied at his hips, and he playfully looks off to the side, coyly hiding his gaze beneath thick lashes. The mood of the painting is sensual, from the arousing shading to the dark marks of obvious love bites lining the smooth plume of Lance’s neck. 

Shiro follows his gaze and smiles softly at the sight of the paintings, “You are quite the muse, Lance.”

Lance snaps out of whatever fog those paintings induced and speaks sharply, “You’re too generous, my calves aren’t that defined.”

Shiro’s grin turns wolfish and even Keith’s angry gaze goes lustful as it dips down in a brazen drag. Shiro quips, “I’d beg to differ.”

With a reddening face and a stuttering heart, Lance scoffs and hurries out the door of their cell.

.  
.  
.

.

When Shiro is sure that Lance is long gone, he releases Keith from his hold. His lover glares hotly at him, a growl to his voice, “What were you doing? I was getting somewhere with him.”

“Sure you were,” Answers the older man as he settles back down on the ground in front of his abandoned painting, “if that somewhere is scaring Lance away.”

“Oh, like you have a better plan?”

“I do.” Is Shiro’s simplistic answer.

Keith’s head snaps to look at him, his face suspicious, “Wait. Did you-”

Shiro picks his brush up and dips it in the ink, “Yup.” He continues on the smooth curve of the wall, careful to stay steady even as excitement builds in his guts, “Lance is now officially a resident of Yu Dao.”

“But, Shiro, what if he gets hurt?” Asks Keith, “I liked the plan at first but maybe we can just, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“Did you see the way he looked at us, Keith?” Shiro sighs and pulls his brush away, moving to the corner to sign it, “He’s terrified of us.”

Keith’s heart is clutched mercilessly by a pain’s talons and he jumps up onto his bunk, “I didn’t mean to-to  _ scare  _ him, I just get angry-”

“He would have been scared of us regardless of your outbursts, Keith. The plan will work.”

Keith rolls onto his side, watching Shiro’s shoulders silently. He has to agree. Shiro’s plan is solid if they want to get Lance back on their side  _ and _ have their shot at pretty revenge. 

He just doesn’t like that Lance won’t come out of it unscathed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I appreciate your patience with my sporadic updates. I work a shit ton!!  
> Also, check out my Tumblr! I RP and do commissions! Come chat with me :)


	9. No sticks or stones gonna break the bones of the man who guns for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"My switch is on, the fuses all been blown_  
>  _Seein' only red inside my head_  
>  _From the sight of you alone."_  
>  -TKO, _I Wanna Fight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter warning: violence, extremely dubious morality**

In many organizations or other general collectives of individuals with one shared goal in mind, there are certain codes members tend to abide by. Mass companies have their ethics laws, businesses have their regulations, police have their oaths, etcetera etcetera. These social contracts are put in place for the sole reason of binding these individuals together to achieve one purpose in an unified manner. Without them, there would surely be chaos and discontent within the group.

Such can, too, be said of the Galra Gang. 

But where one might get a slap on the wrist or termination of their position within the organization in these general collectives if one were to break these  _ rules _ , in the Galra Gang, there is only victory or death. These mobsters are just as privy to social contracts as normal civilians are; however, they go about them in a different way.

There are few simple guidelines, which create the overall culture of the Galra Gang, that would behoove a member to follow. Firstly, always obey superiors. Insubordination is met with the harshest of punishments. Secondly, Lady Haggar’s word is law, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. Thirdly,  _ victory  _ or  _ death _ , meaning that either one succeeds or one doesn’t bother returning unless if it’s in a body bag. And lastly, and this one’s very important (so important that the author will both italicized and capitalize every letter of it) so please pay close attention:  _ AN EYE FOR AN EYE, A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH.  _

If one was to say, write your average rhetorical analysis paper on this story for whatever reason, one might want to break out their bright pink highlighter and go over that one more time. For that, friends, is a  _ theme.  _ A theme, in this context, means “the central topic or idea explored in a text.” A work can have many themes, as this one will. Themes are important to recognize as they often can paint the landscape of the work right before one’s very eyes. They are also important because they tend to explain a character’s  _ actions _ when a reader is confused or angered by them.

In this case, this theme explains Shiro and Keith’s rather dubious plot for petty revenge, and clarifies just why Lance is so wary of whom he claims to be the loves of his life.

An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Lance once read a book of stories in which a man was quoted saying, “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Lance likes that quote.

It’s a shame that the Galra Gang doesn’t teach such values.

 

* * *

 

 

Because Lance is in another block separate from Keith and Shiro’s, he doesn’t have much chance to speak with them after the night previous. As Hunk said, they skip breakfast that next morning as always, making Lance both sigh in relief and cringe in caution. He’d like to know what they’re planning to do with him but that would be asking for too much from karma. A week has passed since he last was put to work and apparently the cycle switched, for now instead of laundry duty as Lance hoped, him and Hunk are stuck with cleaning the many bathrooms and communal showers around the prison. 

It’s a filthy and tiresome job but with the twenty odd inmates included in their cell block they make quick work. Pidge joins them in the male showers after thirty or so minutes and barely scrubs at a grimey wall while dropping snarky comments every now and again. Lance isn’t sure if he likes her or not but he does enjoy bantering with her.

“Hey dumbass, you missed a spot.” She points at some obscure white spot in the corner of a shower.

Lance scowls and retorts, “Maybe if you’d fucking  _ help,  _ you sorry sack of-”

“Guys, please, you’re giving me a headache.” Bemoans Hunk as he uses a thinner brush to check for grout between tiles. “I’m already hungry.”

At the mention of hunger, Lance’s stomach growls like some pavlovian dog, “Yeah, me too, big guy. What time is it, Pidge?” He lets his hands rest in the puddle at his feet, not bothering to move his knees away from it. He likes the feeling of the cool water seeping into his pants and doesn’t mind the cloth sticking to him.

Pidge shrugs but glances over the low wall of the cubicle, gauging the time from how the guards were looking. She turns back to the other two and scratches her cheek, smearing soapy water across it, “I think we got maybe thirty minutes or so left until lunch?”

“We are on the last showers….” Hunk mutters to himself as he picks at a stubborn bout of nastiness. 

Lance drops his scrub brush and wipes his hands off on his tunic, “Thank the spirits, my fingers are getting all pruny!”

Pidge chuckles and rolls her eyes behind those big glasses, “Okay, princess.”

“And don’t you fucking forget it.”

Hunk and Pidge laugh, and Lance preens at the positive attention. He doesn’t feel comfortable to call them friends just yet, but at least there isn’t the awful tension and animosity he felt with Shiro and Keith.

Sure enough, after another half an hour or so, the guards call into the showers to remind them of lunch time. The prisoners of Cell Block B are escorted quickly down to genpop, where they are released into the mass of inmates making their way to the mess hall. Lance sticks close to Pidge and Hunk, weaving through the throngs of people until they reach their destination. They slip into the line together, and Lance ignores the movement of a familiar guard in his peripherals. She really takes her job seriously! It’s almost flattering, to be  _ this _ watched when he’s just a pretty little waterbender.

The three chatter loudly as they move through the chow line and then move on to find an empty table. Lance trails behind Pidge and Hunk absently, his voice lulling from the conversation as he glances about the hall. Something tight winds around his insides, and a certain kind of  _ want _ arises from its grasp. Would they show…?

“Hey, loverboy!” Calls Pidge, “They’ll be here soon enough.” Her eyes dance with mischievous mirth, far too  _ knowing _ for Lance’s tastes.

He scowls at her, forcing himself to focus entirely on the other two inmates, “I don’t fucking care.” He bites in a harsh tone that gives even Pidge pause. 

She blinks at him, mouth tugging into a pensive frown. She stares at him for an unnerving few seconds as he busies himself with sitting down across the table from her. When he’s finally had enough of her silence, he snaps, “What?!”

Shrugging, Pidge’s frown warps back into an easy smile, “Nothing. Your transparency is going to get you in a lot of trouble, you know. You should work on your poker face.”

Lance continues to glower her way as he grabs his chopsticks, breaking them apart from their conjoined head. He rubs them together in his palms quickly, being careful to not leave any splinters that could potentially stab the inside of his mouth. Hunk watches with curious eyes before mimicking the action, “I’ve never done that before.”

“I’m used to pretty shitty sticks,” Informs Lance, “gotta be careful. I have a sensitive mouth!”

Hunk snorts and digs into his bowl of sticky rice, “Really? Couldn’t tell with how dirty it is.”

“Hunk, buddy, you  _ wound _ me-”

Suddenly, a shadow casts over their table. It’s big. Lance stops rolling his chopsticks and all three convicts peer upwards in unison. A giant hulk of a man stands at the head of their table, his big meaty arms crossed at his chest in a show of aggressive intimidation. His upper lip is curled back into an ugly sneer, showing off yellowing teeth. When Lance looks closer, he sees that his front tooth is chipped with half of it missing. Yeouch. That must’ve hurt.

“I bet you think you’re all big and bad, getting thrown into solitary on your first day.” His voice is insanely low, almost comically so, and filled with obvious resentment.

Lance is feeling...confused more than threatened, if he’s being honest. He sets his chopsticks down on his tray and quips, “Well, technically, it was my  _ second _ day, so….”

The man’s eyes flash angrily and Lance is reminded of Keith for a moment.  _ Nah, Keith’s anger is more...fiery. His is just stupid.  _ The man barks, “A smartass, huh?!”

“I’m sorry if this comes off kinda  _ dickish, _ but-” Lance looks the man up and down, eyebrows pulled every which way in blatant unrecognition, “-do I know you? Have we met?”

And  _ spirits,  _ if Lance’s sass made this guy angry, then what he just said made him fucking  _ livid.  _ The convict’s face goes red with unbridled anger and he slams a clenched fist onto the table, making their trays jump and their bowls rattle. The noise also draws the attention of multiple other tables, and many inmates turn in their seats or crane over each other to watch the scene unfold.

Lance tenses in his seat and moves his left leg to the side, ready to jump up at a moment’s notice. 

“You little fuck! You spilled your food all over me and  _ kicked _ me!” The man roars, leaning down to scream in Lance’s face. Spit flies from his mouth and onto Lance’s cheeks.

Anger and annoyance build in Lance’s gut, making his eyes burn and his heart jump. He reaches up and wipes the saliva from his face in a slow, smooth motion, and then wipes his fingers off on his tunic. His eyes flicker away from the convict to connect with Pidge’s across the table. Her mouth is pulled into a thin, irritated line and her hazel eyes glint dangerously behind her glasses. She’s just as pissed as Lance is, judging by the way her fists clench on top of the table. 

His gaze jumps to Hunk to find him already looking at Lance, his glare oddly calculating and observant. Just as mechanical as when they first met. Hunk’s sizing him up, predicting the outcome of this fight. They linger for a split moment before his expression tugs into a look of trepidation. 

The guards are no better, choosing to stick to the sides of the room as they always do. Even his little stalker, the female guard from earlier, simply watches in obvious disinterest.

A crowd has begun to gather around their table, and the air goes hot with barbaric anticipation. These people are hungry for a good show. Some inmates jeer and smirk, others laugh, but a lot are simply silent, waiting for the first blood to be spilled before they allow themselves to be swept by the tides of bloodlust. Lance is boxed in on all sides, it seems.

He realizes he cannot talk himself out of this in the span of the second it took to gauge the reactions of the prisoners around him. Lance rises from his seat, finding himself to stand only around the man’s pectorals. He’s a fucking  _ giant, _ but Lance dealt with him before.

_ You had the element of surprise.  _

Fuck it. He’s fought bigger assholes.

_ You could bend then. You can’t bend now. _

He has no choice. There’s no way the crowd would let him scurry away, not to mention the detrimental hit his reputation would take. Hunk wouldn’t respect him, Pidge sure as hell would cut him off...and Keith and Shiro would be so  _ disappointed- _

He grits his teeth and moves back from his seat at the table, giving himself better room for movement. The man follows, sticking close and personal. Do they  _ really _ have to do the pissing contest part?

“Little twinks like you need to be taught a lesson.” The threat comes with a laugh, “How’d you like to be my  _ bitch?” _

The gathering crowd cackles sadistically, and inmates press in closer to get a better view.

A divisive grin cuts like glass across Lance’s lips, full of mockery. He is careful that his voice is loud enough so that the crowd can hear him, “Sorry! My minimum’s five inches, and I don’t think you make the cut.”

The crowd roars with glee, loving the unnecessary banter between them. Lance inches to the left, looking for an opening to stage his attack. He’s obviously outmatched in terms of strength and constitution, so he’s going to have to rely upon speed and plain old smarts to win this fight. He eyes the ugly redness in his opponent’s cheeks. Shouldn’t be too hard.

The inmate snarls at Lance, “They,” he juts a finger towards Hunk and Pidge, “might be protected, but you ain’t.”

Hunk stands up behind Lance, calling out to the other man, “I wouldn’t do this if I were you.”

The man laughs coldly, glaring at Hunk but unwilling to get aggressive with the key smuggler, “Why? He sucking your guard dogs off, too?  _ Heh,  _ I don’t see a collar on him.”

The implication of his words makes Lance’s innards boil and suddenly he sees clear. The inmate is preoccupied with staring at Hunk, his focus momentarily pulled away from Lance. He is close to him, maybe a meter at the most, and well within striking distance. In a single breath, Lance constructs a path and allows his body to flow naturally into the steps.

His feet part and ground themselves, his right ahead of his left and twisting outwards. His torso follows through starting from his shoulders and his right arm rolls up and tightens inwards to block his face. Instantaneously, Lance’s left leg rises in a powerful arc, the ball of his foot slamming devestatingly into the fat jawline of his opponent.

A startled gasp rips from the crowd, not having expected the tinier Lance to go on the offensive so swiftly. The inmate veers backwards, scrambling away from Lance’s proximity and clutching at his jaw with a surprised groan. In that same second Lance moves once more, rushing forward to take advantage of the man’s prolonged blindness. 

The inmate hunches over thoughtlessly, so Lance gets close and jerks his knee upwards into the nose. The inmate’s head lurches and a bone cracking riles the crowd. They cheer loudly as droplets of blood from the man’s broken nose splatter across the concrete floor of the mess hall. 

Lance’s usual fighting style, when bending, consists of keeping far away from his opponents and making quick work of them using his superior waterbending ability. Naturally, his tribe would have never allowed him to leave if he never learned how to take care of himself without the use of bending. He isn’t as good at hand-to-hand as, say, Keith or Shiro, but a slow dumbass like this is nothing but cake. 

Waterbending requires flexibility and balance, a sturdy control from a dexterous hand is the only thing that can manipulate the volatile nature of free flowing water. Lance has spent many years mastering these traits, and his kicks have since bettered because of it. He relies on his legs often when not using his element, having no interest in accidentally breaking a finger and having his bending suffer for it.

As water is known to do, Lance flows quickly and powerfully, immediately following his opponent and not allowing him to take a single recollecting breath. The trick to these big guys is that they rely too much on their large stature. If one uses it against them, they’re basically useless. Lance does exactly that, dropping his weight into his knees to spare his back as he latches onto the flailing right arm of the inmate. With a grunt of exertion, Lance shoulders the man and  _ flips _ him, throwing the beefcake onto his back with a ground shaking  _ thud! _

The crowd jeers and roars once more, stamping their feet and howling to the ceiling. Lance ignores them, keeping his eyes deadset on the body before him. The man’s nose is crooked at an unnatural angle and stark red bleeds from his gaping mouth and nostrils. His eyes are filled with tears from the force of his broken nose, and he arches his back off the ground at the pain that is surely erupting across it.

_ Please don’t get up, please don’t get up, please don’t get up-  _ A little voice yells in the back of his mind, just as another one, sounding cruel and a little like Haggar, whispers temptingly,  _ finish him. Make an example of him. Do not let them think you are weak. _

Lance’s heart races wildly in his chest, that same primal fear he always experiences in close quarter combat settling in his bones like maggots. It weighs heavy on his limbs so he shakes them out, faking dusting himself off to save face. He continues to stare at the man, both hoping and  _ wanting _ him to get up. 

“Alright, alright, break it up!” 

A rush of relief washes over Lance’s head at the sound of an approaching guardsman. The guard, along with three others, pushes easily through the gathering, a deep scowl set into his mouth. He looks at the inmate on the ground and scoffs, “Really, Ding? Just a few kicks and you’re down? Fucking pathetic.”

One of the guardsmen eye Lance, gaze dark and hidden behind the helmet. Lance stares back, dread building in his gut. Fuck, he’s going to be dragged back to solitary  _ again,  _ he just got back for fuck’s sake-

And then the guard turns away, following her coworkers’ orders they came as they gather Ding. 

_ What the fuck? _

“Disperse immediately! Or we’ll start taking people to the coolers!” The lead guardsman shouts at the crowding inmates. A ripple of unease travels through them and they are quick to obey orders, rushing back to their seats. Some linger and stare at Lance, faces showing awe and jealousy.

Lance’s fists tighten but he backs away, giving the guards room to force Ding off the ground. The inmate turns his head to glare furiously at Lance, eyes hot with embarrassment and murderous rage as he mutters, “You’re just a little fuck from Yu Dao. You’re going to die in here,  _ I’ll make sure of it. _ ”

_ What?  _ Lance stares after him as the group leaves, brows pulled into perplexity,  _ Yu Dao?!  _ Dazed and thoroughly confused, Lance turns back to Hunk and Pidge. His cellmate still stands by the table, his expression full of genuine surprise, and Pidge remains in her seat with a mouthful of rice. The waterbender takes a seat and Hunk follows suit, staring at Lance with obvious shock.

Lance, still weirded out, blurts, “Why did they let me go?”

“Because you won.” Shrugs Pidge, voice muffled by food, “And because you didn’t kill Ding.”

Blinking, Lance looks down at his abandoned food, “Oh. Okay. That, uh, that makes sense.”

Hunk takes pity on the confused man and slaps him on the back, “Don’t worry about it, Lance! Lotor doesn’t care about little skirmishes here and there, so long as no one gets killed. The only reason you got thrown in solitary last week was because you caused a  _ huge _ outbreak, not just a tiny one. That, and Lotor wanted to make an example of you.”

“Okay….” Lance picks at his food before perking, looking to Hunk, “Hey, that guy, Ding, he said I was just a ‘little fuck from Yu Dao.’ What was up with that? I’m not from there, never even been there.”

Is it Lance’s imagination, or does the big man pale a bit? Hunk looks away from Lance, “Ah-well-”

“Still as flexible as ever, I see.” 

Lance’s head whips up from questioning Hunk to the two looming bodies that have suddenly appeared behind him. Keith and Shiro stand there, both staring down at him with almost twin expressions of amusement. His heart stutters worryingly behind his rib cage, thumping aggressively against its confines, and his knees goes weak. 

Swallowing and recovering himself, Lance turns away from them with a snobbish  _ hmph!  _ noise, obviously displeased by their appearance, “You were watching, huh?”

Keith takes the open seat on Lance’s left, setting down his tray, and Shiro moves to the other side to sit next to Pidge. He ruffles her hair as he does, earning a sharp punch in the lung for it. He wheezes and grins at her, receiving a similar one in return. Lance tries to keep his features passive.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Grunts Keith. His shoulder brushes against Lance’s as he rests his elbows on the table top on either side of his tray.

Lance indiscreetly inches away, eyes narrowed with distrust, “You guys could have  _ helped _ me.” He sneers in annoyance, even though he knows that’s asking too much.

“And not see those legs move?” Remarks Shiro, a tiny smirk on his handsome face (which totally doesn’t make Lance’s stomach flip, or anything), “That’d be a crime.”

The waterbender is only able to contain his blush by shoving a thick ball of sticky rice into his mouth, chewing it roughly and almost biting his own tongue in the process. After a moment of silence, Lance speaks, “So, what, you’re not angry anymore?” He directs his question to Keith.

Keith frowns, “Oh no, I’m still beyond livid with you, but I will admit that I didn’t exactly take your story as well as I should have. You always did bring that reaction out in me.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding.” Mutters Lance, blatantly ignoring the appeal at their shared past. He glances at Pidge and Hunk’s curious expressions and scowls, “But we’re not talking about this here. What do you want?”

Keith and Shiro share a look before locking their eyes back onto Lance. He tries not to shiver under the weight of it. Shiro says, “To eat.” His tone is humorous as he gestures to his tray. “With  _ our _ friends.”

Lance’s ears heat and he slams his chopsticks onto his tray, rising from the table, “Have fun, then. I’m done.”

“No you’re not,” Argues Keith, “sit down.”

With a snarl, Lance leans down to get in Keith’s face, his anger blinding him to the beauty of Keith’s tanned skin and dark violet irises, “You’re the  _ last  _ person who can tell me what to do, mullet.” He hisses roughly through his teeth, “Fuck off.”

At that, Lance marches away, depositing his tray in the designated containers and throwing his disposable chopsticks away. He refuses to glance back at the table as he stomps off towards the yard, body heavy with fury and lungs clenching with heartache.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAMF!Lance tag is gonna be big in this fic, as will the Dubious Morality tag!!  
> Thanks for reading! I swear actual plot will show up soon.  
> Also, I'ma be real, writing Keith and Shiro is difficult sometimes....I don't want to make them OOC but also they grew up differently in this fic? They're darker??? Idk....ugh.  
> Just tell me if I'm doing anything wrong and I'll fix it, yeet.  
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	10. And satisfaction feels like a distant memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways_  
>  _So in case I'm mistaken_  
>  _I just wanna hear you say you got me baby_  
>  _Are you mine?"_  
>  -Arctic Monkeys, _R U Mine?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNING: violence, blood**

**TWO YEARS PRIOR TO KEITH AND SHIRO’S IMPRISONMENT**

 

Keith met Lance when he was eighteen years old.

His days before Shiro’s return were spent committing petty acts of basic larceny and arsonry, but by this point in Keith’s life he was already well acclimated into the outskirt ranks of the Galra Gang. He liked to think he was just doing what was needed to get by. The Galra owned the Fire Nation’s underground and black markets, the only way to get anywhere was if you wore their colors. Keith’s never been the type to pledge his loyalty to some faceless organization that would inevitably fuck him over for less than a gold coin, but the need to protect Shiro and cover his medical expenses was too steep. Killing in the name of Galra meant good money, and good money kept Shiro’s sickness at bay.

Shiro saw the young man around town every now and again. It was hard not to notice with how loud and ostentatious he made himself out to be. Keith never picked up on it, with his mind often being a million miles away and all. Shiro figured Lance was just an unruly resident that came and went as he so pleased. He didn’t seem to have any connection to the Galra, which in itself was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it meant Lance was free to do as he desired without any constraints of an oppressive hierarchy of mobsters. 

On the other hand, it singled him out. Made him a target. Shiro noticed the cutie plenty, and recognized that familiar battle hardened glint in his eye. He never mentioned his similarities to Keith, however. A part of him was worried that Keith might take offense if Shiro were to admit his attention was captured by the elusive freeman. He didn’t want to risk creating a gap between them, not when they’d finally fessed up their feelings for one another.

But Keith would notice eventually, in a way that they found to be good for the both of them. All it took was a pretty waitress and a broken beer bottle.

.

.

.

.

Keith and Shiro are in between jobs, taking advantage of their break to go on a well deserved date in a newly discovered tavern not too far from city limits. They take their time getting there, deciding to walk instead of taking a costly rickshaw. Most citizens avoid the country roads at night in fear of bandits but two master firebenders had no qualms about it. 

The name of the tavern is painted in pleasant calligraphy above the front doors:  _ McClain’s!!!  _  And in much smaller print below,  _ Tavern and Inn.  _

“Are that many exclamation points necessary?” Comments Keith, one brow raising as he took stock of the fresh wood stain of the door and the bright lights streaming through the closed window planes. Music is heard from inside, a fun beat obviously played to encourage the patrons to drink and make merry. Keith isn’t a huge fan of places like this but he can’t say he isn’t curious.

Shiro grins at him, “C’mon, Keith, it’s part of the fun! Let’s go inside, I’m starving.”

On cue, Keith’s own stomach grumbles and he nods, “Me too.” Besides, the soft warmth shining through the windows is delightfully alluring in the wet chill of the evening.

Shiro pulls open the door for Keith, allowing the younger man to step inside. The music is much louder within and Keith immediately pinpoints the source of the noise. A band is playing lively in the corner, on top a small stage, consisting of an Ehru player, a flute player, and a man beating away at a set of drums of all sizes. At the head of the band is a young girl plucking away at a Veena, an interesting instrument to find in the Fire Nation considering it was crafted in the Air Nomads. Must be a replica.

Keith looks away from the band to follow Shiro to an open seat, rudely snatching a menu off another patron’s table. He ignores the indignant insult from behind and reads it over, taking a seat beside Shiro and making sure they sat close enough that their thighs pressed seamlessly together. His boyfriend peeks at the menu in his hand, their cheeks brushing as they read.

“Huh, they have a lot more than I thought they’d have.” Shiro mutters to himself before asking Keith, “What do you want to drink, I’ll go get it for you from the bar.”

“No need for that, I can take your orders now!” Comes a cheery voice to their left.

The two look up to see a young woman with long brown hair tied back into a tight braid, a hairstyle popular among most Fire Nation girls. It looks rather becoming on her, however, and the friendly grin on her face easily draws a matching one to Shiro’s face. He greets her politely, making sure his voice is loud enough to be heard over the patrons and band, “Hello! How are you?”

She shrugs and glances around, a humored expression brightening her face and making her blue eyes glint in the bright light, “I’ll be better once I’m in bed! What about you two?”

Keith shrugs, not really good at small talk, although he’s smiling softly at her. Shiro answers for them both, used to Keith’s quiet nature, “We’re doing great. I’ll take a fire whiskey.”

“Could I get one, too?” Asks Keith.

She nods and turns on her heel, her skirt billowing outwards in a pretty halo of multicolored fabric, “Of course! Be right back!” She scampers off to grab their drinks from the bar, leaving Keith and Shiro alone.

Shiro watches their waitress navigate the sea of tables and drunkards masterfully for a moment or two before turning back to his date, “She’s a nice girl.”

Not particularly feeling one way or another, Keith looks back to the menu, “It’s her job to be nice.” He grunts.

“A hell of a job then, to be putting up with misanthropes like you.” Jokes Shiro, flashing a teasing smile Keith’s way as the other man rolls his eyes and elbows him.

“Dick.” Keith chuckles, “I’m mysterious, not antisocial.”

“Yeah, alright. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Hmm, your mouth helped me sleep last ni-”

Shiro punches Keith in the shoulder, a loud laugh bubbling from his chest and his cheeks warming with both mirth and shyness, “I can’t take you anywhere.” He says, voice dipping low as he smiles daintily at Keith. Affection is a fuzzy weight in his stare as he leans in closer to his lover, his prosthetic fingers drawing intricate designs into Keith’s lower back. 

Keith isn’t one for public displays but Shiro’s sudden softness draws him in like a moth to a flame. Their lips press together in a quick, chaste kiss, keeping things light in the smoky atmosphere. The younger grins against Shiro’s mouth before pulling back, redness tinting his face, “I love you, Takashi.” He murmurs, his hand moving to rest upon Shiro’s knee.

Shiro’s chest tightens, as it always does when Keith gets sappy with him, and he smiles dopily, “I love you more, Keith.”

Just as Keith is about to argue that and begin a playful round of teasing, their waitress returns with their whiskey. She sets down the shot glasses and pours an ounce each from her bottle, grinning at them, “Aren’t you two just the cutest! My name’s Veronica, by the way. If ya need anything just holler and I’ll come right on over.”

Keith takes his shot and dips his head at her, “Thanks. I’m Keith, and this is Shiro.”

Veronica perks up, her smile seeming more genuine now, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both! How long have you been livin’ here? I don’t think I’ve seen you two around?”

Shiro speaks, “Just for under a year now. We move around a lot.”

She nods in understanding, “Me too. I’m hoping this place sticks, I’m so tired of moving. My mom owns the joint!”

“It’s a great tavern, very well built.”

“Thanks!” Delights Veronica, “I’ll make sure to pass on your compliments.”

Keith, who had been glancing around the vicinity as they were talking, turns back to her, his expression puzzled, “Are you the only one working, other than the bartender?”

At his words, Veronica’s face darkens into annoyance, her mouth pulling into a grimace. She sighs and rolls her eyes in such an exaggerated gesture that they’re surprised they don’t roll right out of her head. “Well, my lazy twin brother is  _ supposed _ to be running security tonight, but he disappeared over and hour ago. No biggie, I can handle the crowd just fine.”

_ What kind of brother leaves his sister alone at a bar? Even if they do own it?  _ Shiro ponders.

Keith grunts at that and Shiro follows his gaze towards a table of young men only two from them. Shiro noticed them when they entered but didn’t think much more of their drunken antics. He figured they were just some teenagers wanting to have a bit of fun, but now he can see why Keith spoke up in the first place. They’re expanding their horizons from just fucking with each other to picking at other patrons, even going to far as to flirting with obviously taken women and men. 

Veronica also turns to see what they’re looking at and she groans in irritation, “Yeah, I see them. They’re usually really nice.”

“Guess they can’t handle a bit of fire whiskey.” Shiro comments, tossing his own back in a quick motion and letting the burn ignite his insides. Keith follows suit and downs his shot, slamming the glass lip down on the table top.

Their waitress looks back to them, “Well I should probably watch them for a bit, make sure they aren’t harassing anyone. Want another shot?”

They both nod and she tops them off. Veronica gives them a cute wave as she walks away back to the bar, her focus already shifting to track the rowdy movements of the group of men.

Keith picks his glass up again and clinks his nails against it, dark eyes deadset on the group. Knowing what he’s thinking, Shiro sighs, “C’mon Keith, we don’t need to get involved. Veronica said she can handle it.”

His partner shrugs again, “I wasn’t saying anything. Just watching.”

“Because you want a fight tonight. Let’s just have an uneventful night for once. Please?”

Keith glances up at him and easily cracks at the pleading look Shiro is aiming his way. He huffs, “Fine! But if they ask for it, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Thank you, Keith.” He says contently, and then his lips pull into a smirk, “Although, if they  _ do  _ ask for it, you might have to race me to it.” They laugh together, shooting their whiskey back and hardly flinching at the acidic distaste. 

A few drinks later and it really does seem like the night is going to be as plain jane as Shiro wanted it to be. That’s when it all goes to shit, of course, knowing Shiro’s awful luck and all.

“ _ Don’t grab me, creep! _ ” 

The lovers recognize that shrill voice and the definite sound of a slap and they snap to attention, the haze of intoxication having been blown away in an instant at the disgust in her tone. Veronica’s been good to them all night, grabbing them drinks and finger foods and stopping by their table to chat whenever she got the chance. She’s gotten a plethora of laughs even out of Keith, who is usually difficult around strangers. In that time Shiro learned a few things. Veronica loves polar dogs, and likes to mix random spirits together to create delicious cocktails. She dreams of one day owning a high end restaurant and reaching noble class through merchanting. 

He also learned that Keith has grown quite fond of her, and through that, so has himself.

So he understands why Keith lurches to his feet the moment Veronica’s screech permeates the room, loud enough that even the band gives pause. Shiro knows he has three seconds, maybe, before Keith is at that table breaking the hands of every last one of those men. He curses under his breath. He wants to beat the shit out of them, too, but if they got involved he knew it would only end once the police arrived. They couldn’t afford to spend the night in lockup.

Veronica is red-faced and snarling like a dog, her hand raised to strike the man who grabbed her again. From the way they’re positioned it’s obvious that he grabbed her ass, with her turning her body far from him and his hand set lower. His other hand is locked around her wrist, a grip she tugs determinedly at. His cheek is already a blooming bruise. Damn, she must’ve hit him  _ hard.  _

Even Keith hesitates at the demonic expression of indignant fury upon her face, realizing that  _ hey, maybe when she said she’s got this, she really does got this.  _ It doesn’t keep him for long, however, and he quickly shoves past their table and marches over. Shiro, not nearly as prone to righteous anger as Keith, sighs heavily and trails after his lover to give him backup if need be.

“You fucking touched my sister, you stupid fuck?!” Booms an even angrier tone and in comes a recognizable face. The blue eyed freeman from around town appears seemingly out of nowhere, reaching the two first before either Keith or Shiro. Keith stops in his tracks, eyes widening at the sudden entrance of a man practically identical to Veronica.

Veronica glances at the man as he approaches, apparent relief flashing in her hot stare before it hardens. She hisses, “I can handle this, Lance.” 

_ Lance.  _

The young man at the table, looking a bit more sober after that hit but as lustful as ever, scowls at Lance, “What’re  _ you _ gonna do, twink?!”

Keith and Shiro take quick stock of the man, this  _ Lance,  _ noting his thin arms and tapered waist. He looks like he’d weigh ninety pounds soaking wet! Keith’s jaw clenches and he takes another step, intent on protecting not only Veronica but also this stupid idiot, too.

Veronica tugs at the hold to no avail, and the man drags her in closer. She yelps before snapping, “Get the fuck off me!”

Lance eyes the man craftily and that’s when Keith stops again, noticing something very peculiar about the way he watches him. His gaze is sharp and cold, a tundra icing over a dangerous volcano that, until now, has lain dormant. Keith knows that look well. Lance has the eyes of a fighter.

So Keith stays where he is, only a meter or so away, and decides to watch. Shiro is a heavy pressure at his side, wondering what it is that has caught Keith’s wanderlusting attentions. 

It only takes a split second but Shiro and Keith’s trained eyes easily pick up the movements. Veronica’s brother darts forward, seizes a full beer bottle from the man’s table, and smashes it easily over his head, all the while avoiding touching her.

In an instant the man releases Veronica with a howl, allowing her to wrench away and rush to Lance’s side. Taking the chance, Shiro lurches forward to grab her by her upper arm and pull her behind both Keith and himself. Lance glances their way, his electric blue irises glinting gratefully, and then he grabs the man by his sodden hair and wrenches his head backwards. He brings the broken bottle clutched tightly in his palm to his throat and his knee comes upwards to dig painfully into the man’s chest, keeping him locked in place. 

The man’s buddies stand up immediately, each wearing twin expressions of shocked anger. Veronica’s tense behind Shiro and Keith, peering easily over Keith’s shoulder given that she’s the same height as him. Her fingers curl nervously into the fabric of Shiro’s shirt, but not out of fear for herself. 

She swallows before barking, “Lance! That’s enough, he didn’t hurt me!”

The tavern has long since fallen into silence. All eyes are on Lance and the poor fool he holds in his steady grip. Lance doesn’t show signs of having heard his sister; he only narrows his eyes and presses in closer to the quivering man.

“You think you can come into  _ her _ bar and terrorize her?” Demands Lance, a snarl coloring his voice. 

Probably the most sober he’s ever been in his life, the man twitches involuntarily underneath Lance’s hard glare, “N-no, man, it was an honest mistake, really. I didn’t mean no disrespect, I just get excited sometimes-”

Lance chuckles, a low dark thing, “Excited? Yeah, me too. Sometimes I get  _ real _ excited, and my hands get  _ shaky. _ ”

The man gulps audibly and his friend attempts to intervene, panic distorting whatever anger might have been there, “He’s sorry, okay? C’mon man, don’t kill someone over this, he wasn’t going to hurt her.”

“Vee’s gonna have bruises on her wrists.” Lance comments almost absently, “Those must  _ hurt. _ ”

Veronica makes a noise of frustration and pushes in between Shiro and Keith, taking a few steps towards them, “Stop being ridiculous, Lance, and let him go. We’ll just kick them out, okay? Someone’s gonna get the force if you keep this shit up.”

Lance’s face darkens and the room grows ever tenser. Keith wonders what he’ll do. He doubts Lance will kill this man over just a bit of harassment, but what does he know about the man? He could be a full blown psychopath. All Keith can really focus on is the beauty of the slim fingers wrapped around the neck of the broken bottle, and the startling clarity those eyes force him into. 

“...fine.” Mutters Lance as he finally releases the man. He takes a step back, lowering both his knee and the bottle. 

It’s like the entire room breathes a sigh of relief, and Veronica smiles at her brother before turning to the group of men, “Get the hell out of my tavern, ya hear?! I never wanna see ya in here again!”

Most of the men nod, obviously freaked out by how close to death their buddy had been, and go to collect their things. The tavern is losing interest now that death has been evaded and the band picks up a fun beat again. Lance watches the man scramble to his feet like a hawk, the bottle still in hand and violence a steady promise in his stare. 

The man sneers at him and Lance scoffs, finally turning away to face his angry sister. Without warning, she smacks him upside the head quite roughly, “Fucking moron! You know I could have handled that!”

To both Shiro and Keith’s surprise, Lance’s hard expression easily cracks into an adorably amused grin, his hand coming up to rub his head, “Awh, Vee, that hurts!”

“Good, I’m gonna do it again.”

Lance hardly puts up a fight as Veronica continues to smack his arms and chest, his gaze soft and affectionate as he watches his sister’s antics. It’s obvious she isn’t hitting him as hard as she could be. His eyes then flicker up to Keith and Shiro, a friendly, easygoing smile on his lips, “Hiya! Thanks for getting her out of the way, that could’ve gotten pretty ugly.”

Keith is silent and Shiro glances at him quickly to see the faintest blush darkening his cheekbones. Shiro can hardly hold back his teasing smirk as he answers Lance, “No problem. You took care of that pretty quickly. I’m Shiro, and this-” he grabs Keith’s shoulder and shakes him a bit, drawing Keith out of his wandering daydreams, “-is Keith.”

“A pleasure! Vee, get them some drinks, on me! I’ll cover whatever they had before, too.” Exclaims Lance, his disposition a complete 180 of what it had been before.

Veronica rolls her eyes, “Get them yourself, I have customers to get to and your lazy ass hasn’t been here all day.”

Lance pouts and whines, “Veeeee-”

“I’ll buy  _ you _ a drink!” Keith suddenly says, probably a bit too loudly for their casual conversation. The words are clipped and awkward, as if he hadn’t been paying attention up until then. His face has steadily grown more and more red, and Shiro has been around him long enough to recognize when he’s feeling shy.

Shiro holds back a laugh as Lance’s eyebrow raises incredulously. He then chuckles, “Buddy, you’re giving up  _ free _ drinks to buy one for the guy who  _ works _ here?”

Keith bites his bottom lip, probably regretting his words as his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

He is saved, however luckily or unluckily, by a body throwing itself into Lance’s seemingly out of nowhere. The two go down in a flurry of limbs, Lance reacting instantaneously to a blow aimed at his mouth. It’s one of the man’s friends from before, having stayed behind to enact revenge most likely. 

Veronica yelps in surprise before shouting, “Oh, enough of this! Fuck him up, Lance!”

“Try-ing-” Grunts Lance as the man delivers a sharp punch to his nose. It lands, albeit only clipping, but Lance’s head is wrenched to the left under the force of it. Blood spurts from his right nostril and he hisses in pain, lips pulling back into an impressive snarl.

Shiro never likes to interrupt fights between men. He doesn’t see it as his place to help one or another, and it makes the fight drastically unfair and dishonorable to aid a fighting party. However, the lines of right and wrong are very clear, and frankly Shiro just wants to chance to talk to Lance and judge Keith’s reactions without violence being involved. 

Marching over, Shiro eyes the two in irritation before reaching in to grab the other man by the scruff of his neck. It’s a surprisingly easy task, so without circumstance he lifts the man off Lance and throws him off to the side. 

Lance stares up in awe from the ground, blood smeared across his nose and mouth and knuckles. He then shakes his head in disbelief and scrambles to his feet, staring at Shiro with wide eyes, “Did you just  _ throw _ a fully grown man with  _ one _ arm?”

Shiro shrugs and holds out his metal prosthetic, “In his defense, I used my good arm.”

Lance stares at the limb in shock for a minute before gathering his senses and turning to the man who is slowly picking himself off the ground. He huffs and speaks through gritted teeth, “Get the fuck out of here. If you come at me again, I’ll  _ kill _ you.”

The man, seeing that he’s outnumbered and outmatched, grumbles furiously to himself as he leaves the bar, off to join his friends in exile. Veronica sighs heavily at the mess they’ve made, “Great. You’re cleaning that, Lance.”

“ _ Me?! _ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "violence, blood"....hm, it seems that every chapter will have that warning hahaha  
> Here I am!!!! Finally updating!!!! And the update doesn't even progress the plot at all!!! It just gives some backstory!!!!   
> Honestly, I don't feel too strongly about this chapter. I looked over it a few times and tweaked some stuff but it still falls flat to me...I'll probably end up rewriting this chapter (maybe the whole fic lmao) at some point.  
> ALSO! I really feel that _R U Mine?_ by Arctic Monkeys is a good theme song for this fic. Such a snazy song.  
>  Anyways, thanks for reading a keeping up with it. I know I update slowly but I'm going to update this fic AGAIN before I work on the next chapter for my other fic. Plz be patient! I am trying to update this again and my other fic before I go back to college. Expect more frequent updates once I go back bc I don't work every day haha
> 
> ALSO, one last thing, if ya'll have anything you'd like to see happen in this fic, tell me! I love getting word from readers :) I would, of course, credit you and your idea!!!


	11. Where I keep all my yesterdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude.

**PRESENT DAY**

 

In the middle of the sixth month of the year, three weeks after Lance’s imprisonment, whispers begin to spread like wildfire throughout the prison. 

“The Avatar has been killed! In Ba Sing Se!”

“Prince Zuko killed him, can you believe it?”

“You know, Princess Azula was there, as well, but she said it was all her brother’s doing. Imagine that!”

Lance had never been too involved with the war effort. As a waterbender and decent person, he obviously despises the Fire Nation and the genocide they’ve wrought upon the world, but he’s never been interested in aiding rebel forces. He worried for his family too much to leave them like that, to be selfish like that. Regardless, a little bit of him inside, something akin to childlike innocence, hoped. It rejoiced at word of the return of the Avatar,  _ hoped _ like a  _ fucking idiot _ that he would come and  _ save the day _ like some fucking superhero. But Lance should’ve known better. All those fools fighting the  _ good fight _ should’ve known better. 

This isn’t some children’s bedtime story. This is war. And now their only hope is  _ dead. _

The radicals make themselves known in the days following Avatar Aang’s untimely demise. They cheer and celebrate in the commissary, sing songs while they work to honor Fire Lord Ozai and his victorious children, and dance during free time in the yard. Lance can hardly stomach their merriment. They celebrate the murder of a  _ child, _ Avatar or not. A fucking  _ child.  _

He grits his teeth and bears it. No need to draw attention to himself. Luckily Hunk and Pidge seem to share his distaste. They’re just as quiet as him, mourning a martyr in the only way they can- by living another day, silently detesting their oppressors. 

Hunk is oddly quiet, even with the bad news. He makes the occasional pun and laughs along with Lance’s jokes to pass the time, sure, but Lance notices something there. Just underneath Hunk’s happy persona, bubbling like a witch’s cauldron, is something Lance can easily recognize. 

Fear, and melancholy.

Around nighttime, after their cell is locked and as Hunk is shaving at the dirty mirror, Lance hears him humming softly to himself. It’s a tune that’s not so popular around these parts and yet Lance knows the simple verse well. It makes him wonder about the man in the orange headband, makes him think on his kind eyes and soft soul that belongs as far away from this prison as possible. Lance...really doesn’t know anything about Hunk, does he?

_ “It’s a long, long way to Ba Sing Se,”  _ Sings Lance, nothing more than a murmur, alongside Hunk’s sad hum,  _ “but the girls in the city, they look so pretty.” _

Hunk’s razor halts just underneath his chin and stays there, him humming faltering. Lance stares at his cellmate’s back, worried that he crossed some secret line Hunk drew in the sand between them, until the other picks up the tune again. Lance smiles and continues,  _ “And they kiss so sweet that you’ve really got to meet,” _

Hunk finishes off the verse, a shaky grin evident in his voice,  _ “The girls from Ba Sing Se.” _

He washes off the razor and wipes off his face, turning to his cellmate. If his eyes are misted over, Lance doesn’t comment on it. He walks to his bunk and says, “You know Earth Kingdom songs, Lance?”

“I’ve been around. I know plenty of songs.” Answers Lance, “I would ask if you’ve ever been to Ba Sing Se, but they don’t let Fire Nation citizens in for obvious reasons.”

Hunk makes a noncommittal noise, “What makes you think I’m a citizen of the Fire Nation?”

Lance blinks and sits up, eyeballing his friend in surprise, “I thought they sent all foreigners to the Boiling Rock?”

He shrugs, “I guess I got lucky. I heard that place sucks.”

Lance chuckles as Hunk strips of his shirt and rolls into his own bed. Hunk curls underneath his covers and lets his gaze wander to the girl on the wall. Lance lays back down, “Better not say that too loudly around here. They find out you ain’t Fire Nation….” He drags his thumb across his throat and sticks out his tongue, even though Hunk can’t see him.

“You best keep quiet too, then.”

Lance’s heart jumps in his chest. Fuck, does Hunk know something? Did Shiro and Keith expose him? 

“Since people are saying you’re from Yu Dao and all.”

Blood still rushing from adrenaline, Lance chuckles along nervously to Hunk’s words, clutching at his blanket, “Ye-yeah.” He coughs, “It’s weird.”

There’s a beat of silence before Hunk answers again, “Just...be careful, okay Lance? Being around Pidge and I will only keep them at bay for so long.”

Made uncomfortable by the serious concern in Hunk’s tone, Lance turns over onto his side and buries his head into his pillow, “Yeah.” His voice muffled, “Yeah, I’ll stay vigilant.”

“Good.” Hunk breathes in relief, “And huh, Lance?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Don’t let Keith and Shiro get you down. They’re being jerks right now but I know they care about you.”

Lance sucks in a shaky breath and pulls his blanket to his chin, tucking his knees into his chest and keeping to the top corner of his bunk. “Yeah, uh, thanks, Hunk. Them? Get me down? They’d love to see that. As if I’d let them.”

“Lance, you started a riot just to avoid meeting them.”

Huffing indignantly, Lance mutters, “Yeah? Then I went to their cell and spoke to them  _ alone _ where they could have  _ hurt _ me!”

“I don’t think they’d ever really hurt you, Lance.”

That makes the waterbender chuckle, “Maybe not with their own hands, Hunk. But they’ll get back at me. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering just how severe it’ll be.”

Hunk frowns at the bottom of Lance’s bed, laying on his back and stretching his legs out, “Do you guys  _ have _ to abide by some weird honor thing? Why can’t they just take your apology and move on?”

“That would be great, wouldn’t it? If they just understood that it wasn’t anything  _ personal.  _ But they have to do this, Hunk.” Lance sighs heavily, weariness building in his gut, “It’s the only way we can stand on equal footing.”

“That’s...stupid.”

Lance laughs, “Yeah. It really is, buddy. Now let me sleep, and try not to snore so loudly tonight! I need my beauty sleep!”

“Yeah, yeah, drama queen. Good night.”

“Night.”

.

.

.

.

_ “The Avatar is dead. Ba Sing Se has fallen.” _

Hunk whimpers into pillow, his eyes locked onto what he can see of the painting of the girl waiting for him back home. 

_ “Shay...I’m so sorry.” _

 

* * *

 

 

It’s during free time the next day when shit hits the fan once again. Fuck, can Lance have just  _ one _ day where something monumental doesn’t happen? Just a normal day? For once?!

He just so happens to be by himself, taking a walk around the yard, when he is approached by a couple of other inmates. There’s four of them, each far bigger than Lance in size and sporting the fakest friendly smiles he’s ever had the displeasure of seeing. Why bother with the niceties? Just tell him what you want, dammit!

Lance is by the fence as the leader grins at him, her mouth parting to show off dangerous pearly whites, “Hey there, fish. Name’s Trugg.” She juts a meaty finger at her buddies.

“That’s Ladnok,” She points to a massive woman with thick dreads and skin so dark it’s practically obsidian. Ladnok doesn’t seem too interested in keeping up a friendly appearance but he gives her kudos for trying.

“That’s Gnov,” The next one pointed out is a man shorter than herself, around Lance’s height, with short brown hair curling around his ears and a few tattoos around his eyes. 

“And that’s Raht.” Ahhhh, here’s stereotypical buzzcut prison dude number three-hundred-and-five! 

Lance raises an eyebrow at the introductions and turns to them, hands removing themselves from his pockets to idle by his side. He frowns, “Now those can’t be your real names. Y’all in a gang or something?”

Trugg herself is a fairly tall woman, more lean than beefy unlike Ladnok. She has sharp Fire Nation features, with ghostly pale skin and quite the fashionable undercut. Huh. Lance should ask who her barber is. He’d look good with a cut like that.

“Nah, more of a little  _ committie,  _ if you will.” Answers Trugg with a sneer of a smirk.

Lance doesn’t like how they’re attempting to crowd him, to get his back to the fence with no clear way out. He can see their tactics from a mile away, so he does his best to appropriately avoid it. He inches to the right as they approach slowly, keeping his movements discreet. 

“You see, we strive to keep this prison free of outside influence. Of  _ infections. _ Are you understanding?”

Oh, Lance understands just fine. He scowls, “If this is about those rumors that I’m from Yu Dao, you’ve been tricked. I’m from Ember Island, just as Fire Nation as the rest of you.”

“You don’t  _ look _ very Fire Nation! Look at your eyes!” Mocks Gnov, his voice surprisingly young for his outward appearance, “I’d even say you look  _ Water Tribe _ to me!”

Lance focuses his withering glare his way, even though his heart slams like a hammer in his chest at even the  _ mention _ of the Water Tribes, “I can’t  _ look _ at my  _ own eyes, _ idiot.” He snarls, regardless of how childish the words are.

“Enough!” Snaps Trugg, obviously annoyed by how the conversation has derailed, “Why don’t you come talk with us for a bit? To clear the air about this whole  _ rumor.” _

“I  _ really _ don’t want to do that.” Lance grits, gaze jumping around the prisoners to find a way out of the situation. He could handle Trugg on her own, but with three other goons backing her up? There’s no way they’d stay out of it and keep it a fair fight. He’s been spoiled too much by Keith and Shiro. They never ganged up on him when they practiced. Fuck, why is he thinking about them right now?!

Trugg grins meanly at him, taking a step closer, “Oh, I must insist. I want to get down to the bottom of this!”

While Lance was distracted by thoughts of Keith and Shiro, and by the manic look in Trugg’s eye, Landok has drifted to fill the only escape route he had left. He curses under his breath as she eyes him up and down, her smile suddenly tugging into an interested expression.

“C’mon, Dao boy. Just a chat.”

_ Oh fuck. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I UPDATED THE DAY AFTER AN UPDATE?! WOW!  
> Be proud of me. Also do not expect this again.  
> This chapter pushed the plot a bit! I am keeping to the Avatar storyline! If you've seen ATLA, you know where we're at! The first of August is the day they staged the eclipse attack on the Fire Nation so uhhhh be ready for all that jazz.  
> Also, pay attention to Hunk. I know y'all want smut scenes and such but I actually want to write a story! Pidge is going to get her shit soon, too.  
> Shiro and Keith will be in the next chapter, I swear.  
> Bye!


	12. Ain't gonna say the sky is falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Don't have to end up where you started_  
>  _Heaven loves the broken hearted."_  
>  -Bon Jovi, _Born Again Tomorrow_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNINGS: violence, blood**

“Fighting back will only make it worse for ya, fish.”

Oh, Lance has  _ definitely  _ realized that. If the three kidney punches didn’t key him in yet, then his bleeding, throbbing mouth certainly does the job well. Stellar, should get a fucking  _ raise.  _ Speaking of raising, Lance’s head hardly can. It pounds with what he is sure is a concussion from the massive blow to the back of his skull that he took from Trugg not even two seconds after they entered the empty storage room. They must’ve bribed the guards or something, because Lance has no idea how prisoners are even allowed anywhere  _ near  _ unguarded  rooms. 

His sides hurt like a bitch but he doesn’t think any of his ribs are broken. Well, not yet at least. Ladnok seems pretty insistent on leaving some sort of permanent damage. Anything but the face, please, that’s his money maker.

He found out pretty quickly that they hate backtalk. He’s never met such  _ humorless  _ people before, they’re really no fun at all to banter with. They just get angry and beat him more for every sarcastic quip he spouts. It’s a damn shame, he’s  _ super  _ funny, but now his lip is all puffed up and making it hard to pronounce words properly He doesn’t want to sound like a damn idiot!

“Yeah-” Lance groans from his spot on the ground, moving his head so that he doesn’t rest it in his own pool of mouth blood, “-I see that.”

Gnov scoffs and pushes past Ladnok, marching to Lance’s side to press a heavy foot onto his chest, “You  _ still  _ talkin’ shit?”

“I was  _ answering  _ her- fuck!” The waterbender is cut off as Gov kicks him in his left side, right along a super tender area. That’s gonna be one hell of a bruise! He coughs pathetically, blood splattering the metal flooring in crimson droplets. It’s hard to see them in the dim amber lighting of the storage room.

The man above him scowls darkly, “We don’t wanna hear nothin’ from some Dao  _ scum  _ like you! Leeching off the empire, you colonists make me sick!”

Damn, Lance can only imagine how these xenophobic thugs would react if they knew who he really was. A colonist is bad enough to radicals, but a whole  _ waterbender?  _ They would have killed him on the spot, no questions asked. Not for the first time, or the last time, he is thankful that Lotor isn’t a total asshole. He wonders if Lotor knows that his guards are being bought off by these chodemunchers, if he would do anything about it if he did. 

Sensing movement in his peripherals, Lance swiftly curls into a tight ball as kicks from both sides rain down on him in quick blows. His skin stings and his heart hammers in his chest, the terrified rabbit part of him claiming  _ this is it! I’m going to die!  _ while the rational side understands that even with their murderous contempt, not even these idiots would risk hanging for killing someone in cold blood. 

Maybe he can just ride this one out and hope they don’t disable him or something. He’s well outnumbered, injured, and exhausted from fitful nights. He isn’t exactly the most intimidating figure around right now. If only he just paid attention and didn’t let  _ them _ get to his head, he probably could have wormed his way out of this. At least for the moment, and then he could’ve brainstormed a battle plan for when they came after him again. 

But  _ no,  _ he just  _ had  _ to think about Keith and Shiro, didn’t he? And look! He’s doing it again! He doesn’t even register the next three kicks to his shins, too caught up in berating every shit choice in his life.  _ Including  _ those two! 

Something in him, something weak and useless, secretly wants them to show up like gallant heroes. Wants them to burst into the room, scarier than any monster in the Spirit World and twice as wrathful, and render sweet, sweet justice on his attackers. It begs for Keith to burn them to a crisp and warm Lance’s cold skin with his cleansing fire, for Shiro to pull his broken body into his arms and kiss every single one of his wounds until they glow with good health. 

Yeah, like Lance said, it’s something  _ weak.  _ Nobody is coming to save him, nobody knows where they took him. Even if they did, what would anyone get out of saving the newbie? Let him learn his lesson! Put him in his place! Getting your ass beat is a rite of passage and Lance just has to man up.

Abruptly, the kicking and hair pulling ceases, leaving him throbbing and his scalp burning on the ground. He peaks past his forearms, looking up at his assailants curiously. They aren’t looking at him anymore, instead talking among themselves heatedly.

“We can’t  _ kill  _ him, Gnov, back off.” Trugg scolds, tone holding more fond exasperation than actual anger, “Trust me, I want Dao boy dead just as much as the next guy.”

Gnov rolls his beady eyes, crossing his arms at his chest and scowling darkly, “We’d only get a month in solitary-”

“Are you fuckin’ dumb?” Ladnok snaps, “They’ll hang at least  _ one  _ of us, just to remind everyone that murder is wrong. You know how Lotor is, a noble who likes to make examples out of us laborers.” She turns her head and spits a thick loogie off behind her, “Let’s just keep doin’ what we are now-”

On second thought, fighting back is good. Productive! Lance is nothing but a productive worker. Seizing the moment by the throat, Lance forces his body to move even with his head screaming and his limbs  _ burning.  _ In perhaps not the most graceful maneuver Lance has ever performed, he bounces up onto the palms of his hands, belly down, and kicks off, shooting his left leg out and effectively sweeping all three goon’s feet from underneath them.

They crash into the ground all at once, Trugg’s head slamming destructively into Ladnok’s face and shattering the other’s broad nose. Ladnok howls with pain as she lands on her ass only to have her shout cut short by Gnov’s elbow digging into her stomach. 

In the split second they’re in pain, Lance is on his feet and darting like a flying arrow towards the entrance of the room. He stood up too quickly, however, and his vision goes stark black with vertigo as blood rushes out of his panting mouth and down his sweaty neck. His wobbly knees ache from when he almost busted them falling earlier, and he suddenly becomes dizzy from whatever the  _ hell  _ is wrong with his head.

In his rush, however, he completely forgot about the  _ fourth  _ member of their gang, Raht. The buzzed-headed nightmare was standing guard right beside the door, watching the whole event stoically. Now he intercepts Lance, easily taking advantage of the waterbender’s state to deliver an excruciating punch to his solar plexus. 

The pain is almost unbearable and Lance can hardly scream. His mouth goes numb as it widens into a stupid gape and his arms wrap instinctively around his stomach to prevent any more hits from landing home. For a moment, he can’t even breathe, and that’s all the distraction Raht needs to send Lance to the floor once again. 

Lance starts to hack uncontrollably, each cough getting caught on his desperate gasps for air. To his mortification, tears wet his eyes and begin to stream down his pale cheeks. They taste bitter on his bloodied tongue. 

“Close!” Raht tsks, sounding almost pitying as he leans over Lance’s fetal form, “But you weren’t fast enough.” He glances up at his friends, obscene mirth dancing in his eyes, “Man, he did a number on you guys. Fuckin’ pussies.”

Ladnok growls, voice nasally as she attempts to reset her nose, “Fuck you! I’m gonna fucking  _ kill  _ him!”

“No killing, dumbass!” Trugg hisses, regardless of the blatant fury in her tone, “ _ I’m  _ not hanging for this piece of shit! He ain’t worth it! We just need to teach him a lesson, that’s all!”

“What made you such a little bitch, huh?” Mocks Gnov, who shouts in pain as Trugg smacks him upside the head, “That hurt!”

“It was supposed to, idiot.” 

There’s gnarled laughter, each uglier than the last, all the while Lance slowly dies at their feet. He moans through the sharp spikes in his gut, knowing that one will hurt for awhile. His noises draw their attention and he shrinks beneath the hatred in their eyes. 

Ladnok is the first to address him, having finally reset the bone in her nose, “You’re gonna pay for that one, newbie.” She crouches down to look him in the eye, grabbing a fistfull of brown hair to yank his head up. He releases a sharp, pained breath through his clenched teeth. “I’ma make sure of it.”

Lance would have  _ loved  _ to see how she’d do it, really, but the next blow has him out like a light.

 

* * *

 

 

“-and I that is when I found you like this.”

Lance blinks groggily at his favorite female guard, each eyelid moving slow and methodically. The drugs are really doing the best they can, keeping him from feeling any pain at all. That being said, they also keep him from being able to speak correctly, too. 

Her amber eyes stare down at him from beneath her guard helmet, utterly dispassionate and nearly  _ bored  _ with the situation as a whole. He likes that trait about her- her complete carelessness for everything around her. She does her job and that’s it, not above the call of duty  _ nothing.  _ Funnily enough, it’s really grounding for him.

He smiles dopily, trying and failing to lift an arm to gesture to his bruised body, “Aren’t you supposed to protect me or somethin’? Fine job you did.”

Her expression doesn’t change, “No. I am supposed to prevent other inmates from finding out your secret, and to protect  _ them  _ from  _ you. _ ”

Giggling like a schoolgirl, Lance rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay. Because  _ I’m  _ the psycho around here.”

“No, but you are the one that can bend another’s blood.”

“Woooaahhh-” Lance chuckles again, mind blurred and unfocused no matter how hard he tries, “-I can do that?”

“Apparently not, but I have heard tale of your kind that can.” The guardswoman sighs, turning to Lance’s cot side table and filling a clay cup with water from a small pitcher. She leans over him and helps him drink it in small sips, “You are lucky the doctor drugged you, or else I would not be allowing you free reign near water.”

Lance shrugs, or tries to anyway, as he finishes the last of it. He sits back into the thin, standard issued pillow of the medic bay cot, “Thanks.”

“Hm.” She barely gives a response. They bask in comfortable, if not awkward, silence until she states, “I must go now, you should rest. They will only allow you to stay here for the next two days, as your injuries are not too horrible.”

A waterbender could heal him in no time flat. He ponders, not for the first time, why the Fire Nation is so against his people. The amazing abilities waterbending grants them...they would be such great allies. Unfortunately, the genocidal maniacs are bit more concerned with total domination than actually being  _ intelligent.  _ He waves her off and she exits the stark white medic bay, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

He hopes the drugs will last through the night. They said most of his wound were surface inflictions, and most of the bruising should go down over the course of the next two weeks. Honestly, those goons didn’t do as much damage as he originally thought. The main concern for the doctor was his concussion, but after many exhausting tests it was discovered that there was only slight inflammation. He’ll be A-okay in just a few days. It just all around  _ sucks  _ right now.

Lance falls into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, all thanks going towards heavy dosed drugs and all their wonderful advantages.

.

.

.

.

The next time Lance wakes, he isn’t alone and the drugs have worn off.

There are two familiar presences standing at the foot of his cot, looming over him rather intimidatingly. He doesn’t fault them for it though, he knows it’s just their usual  _ gangster-hired-killer  _ vibe. They can’t help it.

He groans lowly as he finally stirs, eyes fluttering open slowly and immediately shutting at the bright intrusive light. It’s like someone took the damn  _ sun _ and shoved it in there with them! “Uggghhhh…!” He tries to open them again, forcing himself to bear with the consequences as his head begins to throb.

“Hey there, Lance.” Comes Shiro’s soft voice, and the man moves closer to kneel at Lance’s side. Keith remains at the foot of the cot, watching them both as he chews on his bottom lip. Weird. “How’re you feeling?”

Lance is thankful it isn’t Keith who’s talking. The man wouldn’t know quiet if Lance beat him upside the head with it. He grunts, a sardonic tilt to his chapped lips, “Just peachy.” He glances at Shiro, startled by how close he is but hating the idea of moving so much that he puts up with it, “What’re you two doing here? Come to mock the loser?”

Keith walks to Shiro’s side, also crouching down as to not crowd Lance. The waterbender eyes him nervously but doesn’t complain, more interested as to why Keith is suddenly not keen on making eye contact. He looks back to Shiro.

Shiro shakes his head, his expression one of genuine concern, “No, of course not. Just came to check on you.”

“Well, I’m alive. You still have time to enact your revenge before I bite it.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Keith suddenly snaps, lips pulled back menacingly as he leans forward and rests a hand on the edge of the cot. 

Lance would shy away if he didn’t fear pain. Instead he scoffs, cutting his eyes to the side and refusing to look at them, “Like I’m supposed to believe you don’t want me dead.”

“No!” Keith says it so vehemently that Lance can’t help staring back at him in shocked silence. The firebender continues, seemingly unaware of the surprise on Lance’s face, “How could you even say that?”

“You seemed pretty into the idea the other night.” Lance mutters. Stupid mullet.

Keith shakes his head, “I was just mad! I was mad, and I was hurt.” 

Lance’s eyes widen, and he even glances at Shiro to see if this is real. The older man is smiling calmly at them...but there is something behind those relaxed almond eyes and loose shoulders that is making Lance nervous. Deciding it’s best to avoid it for now, Lance jokes, “Wow, Keith, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about your emotions. Are you finally growing up?”

Snarling like a damn animal, Keith shoots to his feet, nearly knocking Shiro off balance. He glares down at Lance, fists balled tight at his sides, “Fuck you! Shiro, I’m leaving.” He spins on his heel and stalks off towards the doors. Lance watches him go with a strange longing hiding in the rafters of his bruised rib cage. 

Shiro sighs and rises, shooting Lance an exasperated look, “We just wanted to check on you. Heard they got to you real bad. Who were they anyways, to have gotten the drop on you?”

Lance’s eyes jump around Shiro’s face, trying to find that danger that was just lurking there underneath. There is only pleasant inquisitiveness, as if Shiro was asking about the weather and not about Lance’s attackers. The waterbender finds no issue into telling him, shrugging it off. It’d be pointless to keep it to himself, anyways. “I think they said their names were Trugg? Land Lady? Uhhh, Gnev? Racket Ball? I don’t know.”

“Trugg, Ladnok, Gnov, and Raht?” Questions Shiro.

“Fuck- uh, yeah? Why’re you so good at that?”

Shiro chuckles softly, the sound like music to Lance’s ears although he’d never admit it. Shiro starts walking towards where Keith waits, sending Lance one last charming grin, “I know everyone. We’ll come back after dinner to check on you.”

“Please don’t.”

Keith sneers at him as the two exit the infirmary. Lance sticks out his tongue and turns his head in the other direction, refusing to look even after the doors had shut. With them gone, uneasiness pools in his gut. Why did Shiro care who his assailants were? 

Better yet, why was Keith acting so damn weird?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she's alive lol  
> fuck college, fuck responsibilities, fuck-  
> i kept spelling Trugg legit ANY OTHER WAY than how her name is spelled lmao  
> anyways, sorry for the HUGE wait and such little content. i, uh, genuinely hated this story for a little bit. just cause i thought i wasn't up to my usual standard and i didn't like where it was going but then i remembered- i can just, like, rewrite chapters? i can edit? so i ain't mad.  
> but seriously, this story wouldnt have happened without my main man Snow tellin me about how much they liked this fic. i rp with them, y'know, and we chat, and they were just real sweet and inspiring. so yea, this is all thanks to them.   
> ALSO i bought Red Dead Redemption 2??? so i haven't been seen in 8 years and im gonna marry Arthur Morgan. you're all invited.  
> thanks for reading! Sorry for Being Me. i'm actually gonna write this fic, i swear to god.


	13. That's not a skirt, girl, that's a sawn-off shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"How I often wonder where you are_  
>  _You have got that face that just says_  
>  _"Baby, I was made to break your heart.""_  
>  -Arctic Monkeys, _Suck it and See_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings.

Keith stormily picks at his onigiri, tearing the sticky rice in half and lifting a piece to his sulking mouth. Shiro watches him with his usual calmness from across the table, taking a bite of his own and pairing it with what little fish they were allotted today. The younger hasn’t spoken a word since they left Lance in the infirmary. He hasn’t made any attempt to acknowledge Shiro’s presence, either.

Shiro kills the urge to roll his eyes as quickly as it unearths and places his rice ball down on his tray. He leans forward onto his elbows and murmurs, “You’re angry.”

Jerking out of his dark contemplation, Keith’s gaze finally falls onto the other and, sure enough, it’s swarming with fury. He takes another huge bite out of the ball, probably a bit bigger than he should, and viciously chews it. After he swallows, a bit of rice sticking to his chin, he sneers, “You think?”

Shiro inhales deeply before following with a long sigh through his nose, his frown turning almost sympathetic, “I don’t understand why. You were just as into the plan as I was. You wanted this.”

“I  _ wanted  _ him to run into our arms, not get the shit beat out of him!” Keith hisses, “Did you see his face? He was bruised to all hell!”

“Yes, Keith, that’s usually what happens when someone gets beaten up.”

“We went too far. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Irritation laps at Shiro’s mind and makes itself known through the rough edge on his voice, “What the fuck did you think was going to happen, Keith? When I told you the plan, what part of it insinuated Lance  _ wouldn’t  _ be hurt?” He clenches his fists on top the table and Keith’s eyes drag towards them instinctively. He knows Shiro would never hurt him but he can’t help the training the years of violence instilled in him. “Do you think I want to see him all busted up? Huh?”

Keith crosses his arms and glares holes through the tabletop, “No.” He practically growls.

“It hurts me just as much as it hurts you. But we have to be smart about this, have to  _ think. _ ” Shiro relaxes, not liking the way Keith is slowly curling into himself. Keith is one of the strongest men Shiro has ever met, but when it comes to Shiro, he tends to allow himself a bit of weakness. Shiro would rather die than exploit that. “Lance is stubborn, and prideful.”

Keith’s lips quirk, which Shiro takes as a win with a silent cheer in his head, and he slowly looks back up at the other, “Tell me about it.”

“This was just a wake up call. He is going to realize that while he is strong, he is no match for an entire prison gunning for him. That he needs protection and we’re the only ones offering it.”

Nodding along, Keith’s uneasiness about the situation begins to evaporate. He unfolds his arms and rests his elbows on the table, “And then we win him back?”

“Yeah,” Shiro smiles boyishly, gazing at Keith with nothing less than pure adoration in his eyes, “we already got our revenge. He’s stuck in here just as we are, got his ass kicked, and now he’s going to have to put up with our sorry asses again.” They both chuckle, and Shiro’s hand snakes across the table to grasp onto Keith’s. Their fingers lace together and Keith’s thumb begins to rub soothing circles along the other’s knuckles.

“He’s suffered enough.” Jokes Keith, “But he’ll be safe with us.”

Shiro smiles at that but says nothing. He knows it’s going to be a long, difficult road to get back to the love the three shared before. He isn’t entirely sure it’s possible anymore, not with Lance’s flightiness and their heartbreak, but it’s worth a try. If the longing in Lance’s gaze, the flustered cherry redness on his cheeks, and the willingness to apologize are anything to go off of, Shiro thinks they have a good chance.

He is hopeful.

 

* * *

 

 

“Man, you look like shit.”

Lance shoots at glare at Pidge, flicking her off and drawing laughs from his two companions. Hunk sits beside him on the metal bleachers the prison provided for leisure time in the yard, fanning his face to relieve himself of some of the dense humidity in the air. Pidge has only just approached, having spotted them from the prison entrance.

She plops down on a seat below them, resting her head on her knee, “This happened when…?”

Lance entertains the thought of not telling her but then figures there’s no point in keeping it a secret. He shrugs, “Three days ago? The doc kicked me out this morning. Said I’m just fine, they’re all surface wounds. Nothing permanent.”

“Damn, you lucked out.” Pidge whistles, “Last time I saw Trogg and her goons go after someone, the poor soul was in the infirmary for a month.”

Grunting noncommittally, Lance smirks at her, “They saw my handsome mug and just couldn’t bring themselves to do it.”

“Ah! Oh, I’m sure!” 

The three inmates laugh again, Hunk and Pidge practically roaring when Lance winces and rubs at his aching jaw pathetically. He whines obnoxiously and hunches over, groaning as his bruised stomach contorts and sends pain rushing through his chest, “Owwww- you guys are sadists, this really hurts!”

Hunk reaches over and pats Lance’s back gently, his smile turning empathetic, “It’ll pass, buddy. Hey, why don’t you borrow one of my extra pillows tonight?”

Lance looks up at Hunk, teary eyed and grateful, “Hunk, you’re a damn  _ angel. _ ”

The smuggler chuckles, “I think the Fire Nation would disagree.”

Snorting, Pidge adjusts her huge glasses, “You can say that again.”

“I think the Fire Nation would-”

“Shut  _ up,  _ Hunk, oh my fuck-”

Lance is glad that he is around people that are in generally good spirits. When he left the infirmary, he found that a lot more inmates were taking interest in him. It felt as if hungry eyes were watching him everywhere he went, just waiting for a vulnerable moment to take advantage of. A few older inmates even made hateful remarks towards him. They ran along the same lines usually, general racism and homophobia, but some were definitely more concerning than the rest. The ones that tiptoed along the blurry tightrope between harmless comments and sexual harassment. 

He feels uncomfortable when he’s alone so he tries to stick to Hunk and Pidge. Thankfully, they haven’t changed, regardless of whatever rumors are circulating. Hunk even got permission to visit him in the infirmary on his second day of bed rest. The waterbender is starting to feel comfortable enough to consider his cellmate a friend, but he isn’t too sure about Pidge. At least he knows a few things about Hunk, however superficial they might be. He’s heard jack  _ shit  _ about Pidge. It’s as if every inmate in the prison either doesn’t know her or doesn’t want to talk about her. 

He frowns at her, drawing her attention. She quirks an eyebrow, “What?”

“How old are you?” Questions Lance, “Just curious.”

She scratches her neck, smearing her sweat across her flushed skin, “I’m fifteen.”

Lance startles, back straightening and leaning towards her with wide eyes, “What?! Why weren’t you put in juvenile detention?!”

“Terrorism isn’t a juvenile offense, Lance.” She laughs, turning her head and looking off somewhere unimportant, “They charged me like a big girl.”

He doesn’t like that, not one bit. A fifteen year old girl, locked up with a bunch of murderous, thieving, violent adults? What horrors she must have seen, and so young too. He blinks as she turns back to him, a sort of harsh displeasure in her eyes.

“Don’t you go pitying me! I hate that!”

Lance quickly shakes his head, raising his hands in a calming motion, “Nah, of course not. I’m just shocked, is all. You hold yourself better than any fifteen year old I’ve met.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

The trio falls into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the down time and the steady hum of gen pop. A thought comes to Lance’s head and he pokes Hunk in the side. The bigger man looks at him curiously.

“How’d you two meet Keith and Shiro?” Lance asks them, trying to keep his tone uninterested.

Hunk answers first after sharing a quick look with Pidge that Lance doesn’t understand. He smiles, “I met them a few days after I got here. They were really nice and, uh, I let my guard down I guess. I told them about how I was a smuggler before I was nabbed and they said they’d help me do it again. I was pretty desperate to make a name for myself, for protection, you know? And sure enough, I got my business up and running again. It wouldn’t have happened without their help, and they made sure I knew that.

They promised me protection and friendship, so long as I got them whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it, no questions asked. It really isn’t a bad deal! We’re genuinely friends now and they don’t ask for very much.”

Furrowing his brows, Lance nods. He looks at Pidge who is already watching him passively. He gestures for her to start and she sighs heavily, “Fine. My brother is friends with Shiro and when I got convicted and sent here, he paid him a visit. He pretty much begged Shiro to keep an eye on me, make sure I wasn’t killed or nothing, and Shiro being Shiro agreed immediately.”

That gives Lance pause. A friend of Shiro’s from before? He cocks his head, “What’s your brother’s name?”

“Ah, I forgot for a second you ran with Keith and Shiro in their gang days. His name’s Matthew Holt.”

_ Matthew...Matthew…. _ Lance racks his brain but comes up short. He shakes his head, “Nah, nevermind. I don’t know him. Must have been one of the few I didn’t know.”

“I think you two would get along. You’re both annoying.”

Lance gasps in mock offense, slapping a hand over his heart and batting his eyelashes dramatically, “Pigeon! You hurt me so!”

While Pidge and Lance begin to mock and tease one another in good fun, Hunk falls into quietness as his attention is captured by a commotion in the middle of the yard. A thick group is forming, circling around something Hunk cannot see from where he’s at. He rises to his feet, raising a hand to shade his eyes from the sun as he stares. 

The other two stop talking and peer up at him in confusion. Lance asks, “What’s wrong, buddy?”

Hunk is already clambering down the bleachers, hardly sparing the others a glance as he goes. He looks surprised, maybe even a little excited, and gestures wildly at them to follow, “C’mon! We gotta watch this!”

Pidge and Lance jump to their feet, hurrying after Hunk towards the middle of the yard. Pidge catches up to Hunk and jogs alongside him, Lance taking the other side, “What is it?”

“It’s Shiro and Keith, I think they’re about to fight someone!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, another update so soon? It's almost as if I feel bad for not updating in 5ever lmao  
> I'm bad at writing fluff so there probably won't be a lot in this fic but i will try  
> Please enjoy this. Exams are starting tomorrow for me and I gotta really buckle down. I am going to attempt to do the fanfic schedule thing? I can write chapters for this in, like, two hours or less, so I'm going to try to update once a week, at least. Starting this week. No set day, just whenever I'm up to it or free, but once a week at least...hopefully.  
> Thanks for reading!


	14. You gotta spend some time, love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"How I wish you could see the potential, the potential of you and me._  
>  _It’s like a book elegantly bound but, in a language that you can’t read. Just yet."_  
>  -Death Cab for Cutie, _I Will Possess Your Heart_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNING: violence**

Keith is well known within Bouldergate for his unpredictable temperament. Today wouldn’t be the first, or the last, time that his fellow prisoners would become privy to his sporadic episodes of violent rage. He can’t help himself- he hears or sees or feels something that just  _ riles  _ him up so much that the only way he can expel his frustrations is through challenging the first schmuck he comes across. The thrill of the fight, the acidic taste of his own excitement, pumps like heroin in his veins. It burns away the pain, suffering, whatever, until nothing but blissful carelessness remains. He’s made quite the name for himself ever since his first victory. 

It causes Shiro to lament, although he keeps it to himself until they’re alone. Showing mercy or pity would do little for them here. He remembers a time when Keith wasn’t so aggressive, wasn’t so itching for a fight, for someone to take out his heartbreak on. When Shiro first met Keith, he was quite like he is now. Angry at the world, angry at himself, willing to do whatever it took to just make it all  _ stop.  _ Shiro mended the broken pieces within Keith but it still wasn’t enough to completely snuff out his terrifyingly destructive tendencies.

Then Lance waltzed into their lives, throwing them into a lovesick haywire. From the first night in that bar they knew he was something special, Keith especially. Shiro adored how quickly Keith was willing to open up to Lance, thoroughly impressed by the waterbender’s almost strategic method to taking down Keith’s walls one by one. 

Lance was like a balm on a searing wound. He soothed Keith’s violence with his own sweetness and reminded him that the world isn’t all grim and hellfire. For their time together, however short, Keith was calm, living with a patience that Shiro thought he’d never see in him. 

And then his betrayal came like a slap to the face in the dark of night, awakening them from warm, comfortable beds to throw them directly into the frigid winter rain. All their work, all Keith’s  _ progress _ ...all of it, gone, in the span of minutes. With it, the light of their frightening lives.

Lance knows plenty enough about them,  _ too  _ much, even, and vice versa. But he doesn’t know this side of Keith. The dark turbulence, the boiling tempest just beneath the skin that rolls like a vengeful tsunami that is his bloodlust. A part of Shiro likes it. He likes that Lance doesn’t know what he does, this secret part of Keith. The part Keith desperately kept hidden from him in a bid to keep himself in the waterbender’s high esteem. 

On the other hand, Shiro wants Lance to see it first hand. To see them  _ both  _ first hand. He knows they aren’t good men, realized that the first time he bothered paying attention to the idle gossip in town. Their names were never spoken with kindness, only with terror or respect or a dazzling mixture of both. Lance knows they’ve killed plenty people, maimed others, all at the request of the Galra. Hell, Lance has done some maiming of his own! Yet he never saw it in action, only heard about it afterwards in frightened whispers. Shiro wants him to witness the true extent of their deviance, wants to force him into falling as low as they have so he can never,  _ ever  _ leave.

Keith’s not the same  _ Keith  _ Lance knows, anymore. He has no reason to hide now, not when their sins have been stripped bare and Lance has lost his privilege of ignorance. 

_ “We can love him freely. He knows what we are, there is no escaping that.” _

Keith cannot afford to let himself grow passive like Lance eased him into being before. Fury is his ace of spades and he keeps it close to his chest. Closer still, is his undying love for both Shiro and Lance, the only thing that can cut through all that anger. A different sort of heat, one that he welcomes with grabbing hands and hungry teeth. Shiro thinks this possessive, greedy part of him is cute. Lance will too, with time.

_ “We can love him now the way we know how.” _

 

* * *

 

 

That anger comes to Keith like an old friend approaching at a bar. It slaps him on the back, a bit harder than necessary, and grips his shoulder  _ tight,  _ drawing his attention and tugging it towards the source. He ambles to an easy stop, head tilting curiously. 

“-McClain-”

His interest piqued and his fury steadily brewing, Keith turns towards his ex-lover’s name. It’s spoken by one of two inmates, both whose names Keith couldn’t tell you even if you has a knife to his throat. They’re average looking Fire Nation citizens, one a male taller than Keith by a few centimeters and the other an older woman with matted blonde hair. They have similar amber eyes, a common Fire Nation trait. 

The man is joking with the woman, the two obviously on friendly terms with one another. Keith is close enough to hear them clearly but far enough that they don’t notice him. He listens silently.

“-got his ass handed to him by Trugg and her posse.”

Nothing new, and nothing for Keith to really get angry about. He can’t go around punching every random inmate for just  _ mentioning  _ Lance, no matter how much he hates hearing his name in other people's’ mouths. 

The woman chuckles, unconcerned, “Heard he’s from Dao. Unsurprising that they nabbed him. Should’ve happened earlier, if you ask me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of  _ them _ , are you?” The man questions lightheartedly.

“No,” she shakes her head, “but I do think it was about time he got put in his place. He’s been struttin’ around like he’s hot shit ever since he knocked Ding out cold. Not to mention he started a riot not even a week into him being here. What a jackass.”

Keith’s fists clench but he doesn’t move. The only person that can insult Lance is  _ him.  _ And Shiro, too, he guesses, although he won’t be happy about that either. Their words aren’t enough to warrant a violent response, however, because he kind of agrees with them.

The male inmate scratches his nose, “Yeah, and he’s been cozying up with Hunk and Pidge. Think he’s fuckin’ Shiro and Keith?”

“Probably. He looks like he’s loose.”

“If Trugg could lay him out flat, it can’t be too hard. Maybe we should give it a go? I haven’t had a good lay in awhile.”

The woman snickers and Keith decides he’s heard enough. His fury has decided to give him a big warm hug now, its burning arms wrapping like squirming pythons around his chest and constricting until he pants. He turns on his heel, his scowling expression a storm of danger, and crosses the meager distance to them. The two quiet down as he suddenly approaches, both instinctively sensing the impending wrath and bracing themselves for it.

Keith lashes out at the man first, seeing as he is the larger opponent, and delivers a right hook that sends the other reeling. His knuckles immediately begin to throb as he jerks to the left and backhands the woman, catching her jaw and instantly splitting her lower lip. She yelps in pain and stumbles backwards, her meager escape attempt futile as Keith seizes her long hair in an iron grip. She cries out once more as he throws her to the ground beside her friend. The inmates stare up at him in unadulterated horror.

Not one to waste time, Keith plants a foot into the man’s sternum, pushing him further into the concrete flooring. He leans forward over his knee to glare scathingly at the two, watching them quiver for a moment. The woman has a dribble of blood falling from her lip and the man’s jaw and cheek are already beginning to bruise. 

“If I ever hear Lance McClain’s name in either of your mouths again, I’ll rip out your fucking tongues.” Keith promises, ignoring the murmuring and curious gazes of passing inmates. No one cares enough to help the two nor wishes to intervene with Keith’s business. It’s times like this he appreciates his bad reputation. “Understand?”

The man, feeling the full brunt of Keith’s intimidating stare, nods vehemently, “Never again, he’s off limits, I understand.”

Keith’s eyes flicker to the woman. She stiffens further beneath his glare and stutters, “Uh- is- is he under your protection now?”

Stupidly, against every single instruction Shiro has given him for their plan thus far, Keith nods, “Yeah, and you better tell all your fucking rapist friends about it, too. Touch a single hair on that man’s head and I’m taking  _ fingers. _ ” He increases the pressure on the man’s chest and the other wheezes. 

The woman panics, nodding her head jerkily, “I will, please, we won’t touch him-”

“Good.” With that, Keith backs off, removing his foot and allow the two to scamper to their feet and away from him. He watches them go with an obvious warning in his eyes, crossing his arms at his chest and scowling at anyone who continues to stare at him. Any who have lingered are quick to move on, word of the incident hot on their lips. 

Once his mind clears, his face drops. He thinks of Shiro, of his words before.

_ “Do NOT spread word of our protection of Lance early. It could jeopardize the whole plan. If he knows too soon without us approaching him first, he’ll realize we set him up. He’s smart. We need him to stew for a bit, be afraid of his surroundings and let the other inmates mess with him a bit. He won’t accept us unless he’s absolutely desperate.” _

He bites his bottom lip, moving on from the far side of the yard to go looking for Shiro, “Well fuck.” He mutters to himself, “Guess we’ll have to speed things up a bit.”

.

.

.

 

“Keith, we said we would  _ wait. _ ”

Keith scowls nervously at Shiro’s irritated tone, scratching the nape of his neck and staring at his lover’s chest instead of his eyes, “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. But you should have heard the shit they said about him-”

Shiro cuts him off, setting down his weights and frowning at Keith, “I  _ know  _ what they say, Keith, but you don’t see me jumping every inmate who fantasizes about fucking or killing Lance.”

Grunting, Keith stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “Can’t take it back now.”

“You’re right,” Shiro sighs, “nothing can be done about it now. We just need to move quickly before word gets to Lance.”

“Right.”

“Well,” Wiping at his sweaty face with the hem of his tunic, Shiro smiles dashingly at Keith, “shall we? We’ve got ass to kick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAH bet y'all thought i forgot, huh???? nice try. ya girl took the time.  
> so here i am, finally instating some possessive love themes into this. it's gonna get pretty creepy probably at some point but whatevs. y'all knew what you signed up for lmao  
> thanks for reading!   
> ALSO i got a voltron tattoo because im dumb as fuck hahaha i'm getting a whole sleeve. how exciting!


	15. My mind is in total decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"There's nothing more that I can do_  
>  _(This maniac's in love with you)."_  
>  -Alice Cooper, _This Maniac's in Love with You_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNINGS: gore, violence**

**TWO AND A HALF YEARS PRIOR TO LANCE’S IMPRISONMENT**

 

The first time Lance watched his gentle lovers murder someone was only six months before he left them for dead. 

Naturally, Lance has always known about their moonlight affairs. He works for the same syndicate, after all, from time to time. It’s nothing new to him, the blood on their hands. He hasn’t killed anyone as of yet, and hopefully he’ll never have to, but he’s gotten damn close to it. He can’t judge them when he’s out here too afraid to take the next step when they aren’t. And how could he possibly be disgusted by them? By their stained fingers as they dance so slowly across his nape? As they intertwine with his in a delightfully warm embrace? 

How can he be afraid of such soft men? He’s seen them in ways no one else ever has. They call them monsters,  _ the Galra’s bloodthirsty hounds,  _ but they have never felt Shiro’s steady hand on the small of their back. They have never seen Keith’s adorably flustered face when Lance kisses him on the tip of his nose. No one but Lance has woken up to Shiro’s comforting humming nor Keith’s legs tangled in theirs. It is almost impossible for Lance to connect the Keith and Shiro he knows to the Keith and Shiro  _ they  _ know.

Then again, Lance has never watched another man get his face stomped in before.

He wants to scream but nothing more than a hoarse whisper escapes his gaping lips. The waterbender is no stranger to violence and bloodshed. He’s pretty good at it, if he’s being honest, but this is a whole new playing field. Only able to cover his mouth and stare at the broken, twisted mawl of snapped bone and shattered teeth, Lance’s trapped mind begs him to  _ move.  _ Yet he can’t. He can’t stop looking at those bloodied, bulging eyes.

His arms still hurt from where the dead man had violently shaken him but his firing nerve endings don’t quite make it through the sea of ice in his veins to his brain. The gore-splattered boot lifts and shakes out almost comically, as if its owner stepped in dog shit and is trying to get it off. A terrified part of him wants to laugh at that, anything to make this situation feel normal.

“Lance….” A slow hand reaches out to him, attempting to cup his wobbling chin.

Lance reacts violently, pulling away and stumbling back a few steps without taking his eyes off the corpse. He continues to stare at it unblinkingly until a large dark body fills his field of vision, moving closer and banked by another. It takes one blink and they’re at his side again, warm hands on his chilled skin and soft lips pressing into his brow in some sick show of comfort. 

They’re turning him away from the scene and he allows it. Keith presses his mouth to Lance’s ear and murmurs, “Shiro had to do it, Lance. That man was going to hurt you.”

That’s the real kicker. That somehow this is  _ his  _ fault. He knows that’s wrong but it’s so hard to pay attention with his ears still ringing with the crack of the man’s skull. So he just nods along. Best to agree until he can think properly later. They’ll take care of him.

Shiro has his arm tight around Lance’s waist like a damn metal vice, prosthetic fingers digging into the hard muscle of his abdomen in a way Lance usually likes but finds he can’t exactly stomach now. He has no choice but to allow it though as they lead him away. Shiro kisses Lance’s sweaty hair and breezes, “We’ll never let anyone touch you.”

“We’ll always protect you.”

“You don’t need to be afraid anymore, he can’t hurt you. I made sure of that.”

_ You sure fucking did, buddy!  _ Lance thinks hysterically.

He knows they mean well. He knows this is their way of being protective, being comforting- you know, normal boyfriend stuff. But he can’t help but wonder, in his moment of weakness, if he fully understands exactly what he has gotten himself into. 

Lance disappears into the bath when they return home, desperate to scrub away the night’s terrors. He wipes hard at his sticky skin until it shines red with rawness and he can finally feel pain blooming through his frayed nerves. They knock at the door every so often, trying to coax him out or let them in with kind words and barely hidden pleas. He stays in there for nearly three hours until Shiro’s worried questions finally guilts him into wrapping a towel around his hips and leaving the bathroom. 

They greet him quietly, solemnly, and he realizes they know what they’ve done wrong. He sits between them on their bed, still only in his towel, and allows them to hold his hands.

“I’m sorry, baby, we scared you.” Shiro murmurs sadly, beautiful grey eyes downcast and wet. 

Keith is in no better shape, his expression pulled into something almost like terror, “Please don’t look at us like that, please don’t be scared of us.”  _ Please don’t leave me.  _ It isn’t said but Lance hears it, the voice of a lonely orphan begging for love’s starlit kiss on a windy night. 

_ Please don’t leave me.  _

Lance sucks in a breath and smiles, glancing between the two of them and shaking his head in almost bemusement, “Like I ever could be. You just freaked me out a bit, don’t get so full of yourselves.”

Like a deflating balloon, the tension leaves the room in a deep whooshing breath. Shiro kisses the sensitive side of Lance’s neck while Keith nuzzles like a frightened kitten into his bare chest. Lance lays back onto the bed, dragging his lovers down with him where they encircle his body in a tight, loving cocoon. Keith and Shiro are quick to fall asleep in Lance’s arms, their legs wrapped around his and each other’s and arms a mess of limbs. 

It takes Lance much longer for the nausea within to subside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: says im gonna post weekly  
> me: doesn't do that  
> also me: has bronchitis and a job  
> also also me: is a depressed dumb bitch
> 
> Sorry this is so damn short, uhhh, I plan on releasing another chapter either tonight or tomorrow. I swear it. I'm working on a fun little one-shot right now but god knows when I'll actually post that lmao  
> Hope you enjoyed it! Here's some more dark Shiro and Keith because I can't get enough of it, apparently!


	16. I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This place is always such a mess_  
>  _Sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn."_  
>  -The Wallflowers, _One Headlight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNING: violence**

**PRESENT DAY**

 

Nervous apprehension acts as almost leather blinders strapped to the sides of Lance’s head as he hurries on Hunk’s heels. The bigger inmate pushes unapologetically through the gathering crowd of curious prisoners, neither noticing nor reacting to their scathing comments and surprised yelps. A few unlucky folks are shoved almost to the ground and Lance has to dodge flailing limbs as they pass. Pidge is tinier and darts between them easy, sticking to Lance’s side and using his larger stature as an obvious shield.

Hunk finally breaks through the inner ring, using his meaty shoulders to create a large enough space to accommodate the three of them. The inmates there are pretty quick to move away, having no interest in drawing the scorn of their residential smuggler. Lance is once again grateful for his luck in cellmates. He probably would’ve been chopped liver soon enough without Hunk’s intimidating presence. Not to mention he’d definitely have a difficult time getting to the front of all this mess. He halts at the edge of the inner circle, blue eyes wide with trepidation. 

It’s a sight he’s seen before, no doubt. Shiro and Keith standing off against a multitude of opponents. Two versus four isn’t exactly a fair fight...well, for Trugg’s gang, that is. They’d need more like  _ ten  _ guys to be a threat to Shiro and Keith, at least, especially when none of them can bend. The excited talking around him lets him know most of gen pop already knows that- so does the uneasiness on Trugg’s face. 

Nothing has happened yet, which Lance finds strange. Shiro and Keith aren’t the type to make a spectacle of things, both preferring a more  _ get-in-get-out  _ method of things. Lance was always the one with the dumb one-liners and mocking banter. Shiro likes to do his job quickly and Keith’s not the talkative type. The point is, they don’t dally. Most of their fights, as far as Lance as been privy to, last under five minutes. Why they haven’t just attacked and gotten this over with is a mystery...one that is making Lance’s fingers tremble. 

And why they’re even attacking Trugg…. His brows furrow in the beginnings of indignant fury. They aren’t doing what he thinks they’re doing, are they?! “I swear to the fucking spirits above…!” He mutters to himself, finally dragging his eyes away from Trugg’s posse to the two in question.

Keith has his hands in his pockets and his gaze deadlocked onto Lance. The startling abruptness of his dark violet irises makes Lance’s chest constrict but he tries to play it cool. Lance lifts an eyebrow at him in an obvious question, clenching his fists at his sides and glancing towards Trugg. Keeping his face annoyingly passive, Keith just looks away, saying something to Shiro that he can’t hear over the roar of the crowd.

At whatever Keith said, Shiro turns and finds Lance, shooting him a friendly smile that should belong to a damn angel, not a maximum security prisoner whose about to beat someone’s brains in. Lance’s teeth gnash together and he shakes his head quickly, desperation flashing through the anger in his glare.

_ Please don’t fight some guys for me, I swear to- _

Shiro’s smile only widens into a devious grin as if to say,  _ too late. _

“So?!” Barks Trugg from her line of fiendish comrades. Her friends shift their weight nervously but stand their ground. “You called us out, what do you want?!” She glances over at Lance and visibly pales upon seeing his silent communication with the two. She knows what’s happening.

The crowd has gone mostly silent, pressing in as close as they dare in order to catch their words. A few inmates have caught sight of Lance, nudging each other and spreading the word. 

_ “That’s the damsel, huh?” _

_ “Whatever, we haven’t seen Keith or Shiro fight together like this in awhile. Who cares if it’s over the new guy?” _

Finally tearing his lingering gaze from Lance’s pleading eyes (how he  _ loves  _ that look on him), Shiro’s mouth flattens into an expression more politely subdued. Keith remains silent but his shoulders are tight with anger. Lance watches him carefully, as do Gnov and Ladnok. He may look stoic but there’s something bubbling, like a noxious boiling soup, just beneath the marble surface of his tanned skin. Lance would recognize that look of absolute murderous fury anywhere. He’s suddenly very afraid for the people who beat him unconscious.

“I think you know why we’re here, Trugg.” Shiro says. 

Lance is momentarily distracted by a finger digging into the bruise on his side. He hisses in pain and looks to his left to see an older woman leaning towards him with a curious look on her face, “ _ Psst!  _ Didn’t you get beat up by Trugg? She was gloating about it.”

He frowns and nods, not wanting to be kept too long from the fight, “Yeah, so what? Shut up, I’m trying to listen.”

“So, the dogs doin’ this for ya?”

Lance shoots her a deathly glare and she backs off with a wave of her hands. Pidge mutters at him to pay attention.

Trugg’s fists are tight balls at her thighs, her neck veins popping from the muscle as she swallows shallowly. “Don’t see what it has to do with either of ya. Ya fuckin’ the shithead or something?”

It’s the most irritating thing, to be spoken about as if you aren’t even there. Lance barely holds back the urge to tell her to eat shit, not particularly wanting to draw more attention to himself than what this already is. He fumes silently instead, screaming obscenities in his head.

Keith jerks forward, scarred hands slipping from his pockets and drawing a gasp from Lance’s lips, only to be stopped by Shiro’s steady hand on his shoulder. He looks ready to rip Trugg’s head from her shoulders but pauses when Shiro tells him to. Lance will always be impressed by Shiro’s ability to control the destructive fire that is Keith Kogane. He, himself, could only ever simmer it.

Shiro doesn’t dignify the question with a proper response. He just shrugs, which Lance thinks is worse somehow, before raising his voice purposely so everyone in the vicinity could hear, “I suggest you watch how you speak about him to us.” It isn’t just a warning to her.

Gnov suddenly speaks up from beside Trugg, appearing no less alarmed but ready to get this over with, “Like we give a shit he’s yours. We just did our job- trash from the colonies needs to be put in their place!”

If Lance had blinked he would have missed it. Shiro’s hand falls gracefully from his lover’s shoulder, like a flag signalling the start of a race, and Keith takes off like an armadillo lion released from its cage. Shiro steps forward, stormy greys alight with a terrifying glint. He cocks his head, and flashes another sardonic grin at Lance’s enraged face as Keith’s fists reshatter Ladnok’s nose.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie wow wow, she did what she said she would? lolol still left it on a cliffhanger tho  
> Expect a brutal next chapter. I'ma have a fun time writing such a super violent scene!  
> And Lance is PISSED! Lmao the storm has only just arrived.  
> Until next time, friends.
> 
> P.S. I feel a lot better, thank you for all the well wishes. Positive energy out is positive energy in!


	17. If it brings me to my kness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This unrequited love_  
>  _To me it's nothing but a one-man cult_  
>  _And cyanide in my Styrofoam cup_  
>  _I can never make him love me."_  
>  -Frank Ocean, _Bad Religion_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNINGS: Gratuitous violence, bloodshed, all around dark**

Lance is almost positive Trugg and her friends are about to be brutally murdered and these monsters around him are fucking  _ cheering.  _

Sure, he thinks they deserve a good beat down for the shit he put them through. Naturally he would feel some sort of animosity towards them and wish pain upon them. But getting their heads and chests crushed like grapes?! Now that’s a bit of an overkill. Not to mention Shiro and Keith are most definitely doing this for  _ him.  _ Talk about a guilt trip. It’s  _ his  _ damn fault these poor bastards are coughing up blood and other phlegm into the dirt. He shouldn’t have brought so much damn attention to himself, fuck, Lotor fucking  _ warned  _ him-

Needless to say, Trugg and the others aren’t faring too well against the prison’s top dogs. They’re putting up a good fight, at least. Lance can say without a hint of bruised ego that he wouldn’t last two minutes in a real fight against Keith and Shiro. It’s just plain fact. Lance is strong, clever, and fast- a threat in his own right, but they’re just on a whole different level. He’s sure it’s only their opponent’s larger numbers that’re making the fight last longer than expected...well,  _ that,  _ and there’s no way they aren’t putting on some sick show just to prove a point.

Keith isn’t the type to toy with his food. He goes in for the kill and dishes out pain so fast and beastly it’ll make your head spin. He told Lance once that it’s because he doesn’t want to get too caught up in the ethics of what he’s doing, since sometimes he has to hurt people who don’t really deserve it. Lance understood that, even if Keith’s primal fighting style terrified him to the core to witness.

Quite like his lover, Shiro also prefers to do things more efficiently. No chit chat, no banter, no room for mercy. Just stoic competency, all blows delivered precise and quietly, all jobs carried out to the very end no matter how vile. Sometimes, before their separation, Lance wondered if there was anything at all behind that handsome face of his, in moments when he watched how the man acted around others. Then Shiro would catch Lance’s eyes and smile that megawatt grin and all pesky doubts would flee from his mind in an instant. 

So it’s more than unnerving that they’re taking so long to finish this up. The crowd is eating it up, enjoying every startling  _ crunch!  _ of broken bone and  _ slam!  _ bodies hitting the ground only to be allowed to rise for the cycle to repeat itself. 

Keith has latched onto Ladnok and refuses to let her up, like a pitbull with a chew toy, or more appropriately, an alligator about to twist into its death roll with its prey inevitably stuck between its massive jaws. Her face has long since swollen into a haze of bloodied, throbbing skin. If he keeps up his relentless assault, Lance knows she will die from the head trauma. 

Luckily, Shiro notices during a temporary lull in his own siege. Gnok is out cold on the ground, having been taken care of by a series of vicious punches and one devastating knee to the neck. Trugg is clenching her shoulder, tears spilling out of her eyes and skin white as a sheet at the pain of dislocation. Shiro had jerked the bone right out the socket easier than ripping wet paper. The sound of it, something Lance was unfortunately close enough to hear even under the bloodlustful cries of his fellow inmates, made him sick to his stomach. Raht is lingering at Trugg’s side, taking advantage of Shiro’s wandering gaze to take a look at her dislocation. 

“Keith, let up, any more and you’ll kill her.” He orders, gaze shining with an almost heartwarming fondness.

Keith hesitates, right fist poised perilously in the air ready to strike, and Lance is scared that this will be the first time he doesn’t listen to Shiro. There is real fury in Keith’s eyes and Lance knows better than anyone as to what that means. Lance takes a jittery step forwards, pulling against Hunk’s steady hand on his shoulder but not breaking the hold. The other’s name falls from his lips, weak with aghast consequence. 

Those blazing violet eyes flicker over to him, bathing him in their fierce attention, and the angry snarl begins to drop into a pained expression. Lance’s heart clenches between his ribs and his skin breaks out in a cold sweat. Keith stares for a moment longer, his reddened knuckles lowering to his side as he rises to his feet and off of Ladnok.  _ Thank the spirits, she’s been through enough.  _ Keith jerks away suddenly, breaking off the eye contact, and makes his way towards Shiro. Ladnok doesn’t even twitch but Lance can see the steady rise of her chest. 

Shiro turns back to the remaining two as Keith approaches, clasping his hands together and nodding, “This has gone on long enough, huh? Let’s finish this up.”

Keith’s attention has returned to the fight at hand, zeroed in on Raht as Trugg isn’t much of a threat with her shoulder all fucked up. He mumbles something to Shiro but Lance can’t hear it over the stamping of excited feet and cheers for more. 

“You look pretty dead set on buzz cut there.” Shiro says to him, “Go ahead, I’ll deal with Trugg.”

Once again, that’s all it takes for Keith to jump into action. Lance isn’t sure how much more he can stomach so he focuses on Shiro, who is advancing on Trugg once more. She tries to scramble away, forfeiting all dignity in a desperate grab for sanctuary among the crowded prisoners. When she gets to the wall they only push her back into the ring. Someone shoves her so hard she goes flying into the ground, landing on her bad shoulder and screeching so loudly that it hurts eardrums. 

Shiro comes to her side calmly, grabbing her by scruff and dragging her towards the center of the circle. She kicks and screams, each cry for help a stab at Lance’s plaguing guilt within. She smacks with her good hand at Shiro’s prosthetic but it’s like a kitten batting at a grizzly bear. 

It’s kind of funny, in a supremely fucked up vengeful sort of way. Trugg was in Shiro’s position not even four days ago, beating and terrorizing Lance just like this, acting all smug and triumphant over his suffering. Look at her now, practically begging for forgiveness at Shiro’s feet with tears and snot streaming down her bloodied face. He’s disgusted but...something sinister within is morbidly satisfied with the turn of events. The hunter has become the hunted, in a sense. Proper justice and whatnot. Isn’t that what they’re in prison for? Proper  _ justice. _

Shiro makes quick work of her, throwing her to the dirt and then kicking her savagely in the side of her head. Trugg’s head snaps back and her body collapses all together, like a puppet with its strings cut. Lance can’t see too well from his vantage point but it looks like her jaw is hanging at a weird angle. Must be broken, judging by all the blood and broken teeth.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut then, turning away to save himself further from the image that has now burned itself into the backs of his eyelids. Inhaling deeply, he takes a few second reprieve from the gruesome scene before him. He knows he’s acting like a total pussy but he can’t help it. They were jerks but they didn’t deserve  _ this.  _

“Hey.” Pidge nudges him sharply in his bruised side, making him wince. 

He opens his eyes into a thin glare, “What?!”

“Pay attention. This is about  _ you,  _ remember?”

Clenching his teeth to restrain himself from screaming at the younger inmate, he looks back to the middle of the ring. Shiro is patiently watching Keith finish, hands in his pockets and looking the part of a man waiting for a train or carriage. 

Raht is not looking so good. The once proud and cocky gangster hacks up vicious dark liquid, having fallen to his hands and knees on the ground. Keith has done quite a number on him while Lance was distracted watching Shiro. 

“Hurry up, Keith, guards are coming.” Warns Shiro, who starts walking towards them. 

Keith grunts and wipes his sweaty brow with his forearm, avoiding getting blood on his face from his busted knuckles. He bends down and seizes Raht by the collar of his tunic, dragging the man up so their noses are inches apart. Shiro comes to a stop by Keith’s shoulder, staring dispassionately down at them. The sight does funny things to Lance’s insides. He is reminded of that first night, two years ago, in the dark alley just past midnight. It’s been awhile since he’s thought of it. 

“Listen up, you weak piece of shit.” Keith snarls, his deep timbre rougher and darker than bedrock. The crowd leans in, desperate to catch his every word. The two barely bantered at all so they’re hungry for some change to the mindless violence before them. Perhaps a confirmation to the motive they’re all thinking of? 

Only feet away, Lance trembles in his common-issued black slip ons. He shakes his head slowly, face contorted in a strange mix between fury and resignation. _ “Don’t you fucking-!”  _ He starts to yell, jerking completely out of Hunk’s grip and stumbling towards the two.

Shiro glances at him abruptly. A megawatt smile brightens his victoriously handsome face.  _ I’m so fucked. _

Keith finishes his sentence, loud enough that every sorry sod in gen pop can hear it loud and clear, “Lance McClain belongs to us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am finally getting to how dark I want Keith and Shiro to be, yay! Regardless of how dark they are, there will be NO dubcon or noncon in this fic. So please do not worry about that, rape makes me physically ill and violently angry so why would I write it?  
> Anyways, thanks for reading, as always. I appreciate any and all support that has been shown to me. Y'all are legit the best following I've had for any of my fics ever.   
> I actually have a better game plan for this fic now?? wow, im so gr8  
> Back at college, on that grind. fuck me.  
> bye


	18. 'Cause this life is a farce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This salvation I desire_  
>  _Keeps getting me down_  
>  _'Cause we need to_  
>  _Recognize mistakes."_  
>  -Portishead, _It's A Fire_

A resounding silence follows painstakingly after the blunt claim. Lance can see the gears turning in the other inmates’ heads and he has a general idea of what’s going on in there. If Trugg’s gang was beaten to an inch of their life for  _ just  _ roughing Lance up a bit, what the hell would they do to any idiot who dared do more? There’s an almost unconscious shift  _ away  _ from Lance, as if he’s a source of awkward discomfort. In a way, he is. With those words Lance is now separate from the rest of gen pop. With those words he is unique- the very thing he strove  _ not  _ to be when he was first introduced to the high guard towers of Bouldergate Prison.

Honestly, he’s too shocked to say anything at first. His mouth falls open wordlessly, twitching as he tries to connect his rushing thoughts to the muscles that direct his jaw. He can only stare at Keith as he brutally ends the viciously one-sided fight by breaking Raht’s jaw with single, smartly placed fist. Raht’s lucky that the hit also knocked him out cold. That’s going to be a world of pain when he wakes up. 

Keith releases Raht and allows the other’s limp body to collapse in an undignified heap on the dusty earth. He straightens his spine into a smooth roll of his shoulders while taking a sharp inhale through his nose. Releasing the breath in a steady exhale, his sharp violet eyes flicker over the excited faces in the crowd beneath his long, dark lashes and he raises an eyebrow. “Well?” He questions expectantly.

With that, the barbaric crowd bursts into thunderous cheer. 

The sudden shriek of noise in his ears finally pulls Lance from his stunned reverie. Burning fury pools into his gut and melts the startled ice in his veins, replacing blood with wrathful magma. His eyes darken into pits of burning coal and his face heats alongside them into an indignant red. Nose scrunching as his lips tighten into a flat line, Lance throws all caution into the wind and begins a steady march towards them.

Shiro notices him first and turns to him, any twisted smugness from before having morphed into a pained resignation. Keith isn’t much better, almost stumbling over his own two feet in an effort to face him as the waterbender swiftly approaches. It’s almost cute enough to make Lance break his bearing and chuckle- an agile, graceful killer like Keith getting clumsy in the face of his ex-lover’s vengeful anger. Once upon a time it would have.

However, Lance doesn’t have a chance to unleash the absolute tempest of irate badgering. His attention is grabbed by the familiar shouting of oncoming guards. He looks to his left to see a whole  _ squadron  _ of them fighting through the huge circle. They give no mind to injury as they shove and assault anyone who gets in their way to the middle. 

_ Wow, now they decide to do their job? How convenient.  _ Lance thinks to himself.

Not wishing to be associated with those involved, Lance quickly retreats back to Hunk and Pidge. This is not before he flashes a lingering venomous glare Keith and Shiro’s way, a hiss on his lips, “You’re so fucking  _ lucky. _ ”

To his annoyance, Shiro and Keith sport matching lackadaisical attitudes. He knows they don’t give two shits the guards are coming- they run this prison, after all, second only to Lotor. Hell, Lotor can’t even touch them half the time. Not unless he wants a full blown riot on his hands, and not one like the minor one Lance started. That isn’t to say they won’t be punished for this. They’re still inmates at the end of the day. 

The first guard breaks through the inner ring on the far side from Lance and takes quick stock of the situation. He shakes his head, vexed expression obvious even beneath his thick metal helmet. Four more guards appear behind him and, without hesitation, hurry further into the open clearing. They each make an identical arm movement and startling orange flames spew from their hands in the shape of whips. They’re taking no chances.

“All of you, get back to your cells  _ immediately! _ ” Commands the first guard, obviously a leader of some kind based on the yellow insignia on his shoulders. “Any prisoner found lingering will be sent to the  _ cooler! _ ”

It’s like a bomb dropped, every inmate quickly scatters back towards the open doors of the prison. Hunk and Pidge begin to leave as well, not waiting up for Lance as he hesitates. He watches Keith and Shiro, anger still heavy within but beneath that...beneath that, there’s plenty of worry, too.

The four guards surround Keith and Shiro, who do nothing but remain in place. They know fighting back will only lead to a fatal incident, one they’re not likely to win based on how many firebending guards there are in the prison. The lead guard approaches them calmly, albeit a bit tiredly, as if he’s done this too many times before, “Alright, boys, it’s the cooler for you.”

Shiro’s expression hardens but it’s Keith who exclaims furiously, “We didn’t use bending!”

“But this is your third offense. That means coolers, regardless of bending. You know the rules.” 

The familiar female guard, the one that’s supposedly assigned to Lance, abruptly appears beside him. He takes a step back, surprised. She glares down at him from behind her helmet’s visor, “Get back to your cell, McClain, unless you want to go to the coolers, too.”

Lance glances back at the other two, making quick eye contact with Keith before clenching his teeth and looking away. He nods and turns on his heel, not sparing a single glance back as he hurries after Hunk and Pidge. 

They deserve everything coming to them, he tells himself, even as he imagines them shivering in the dark. 

Cold and alone.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s total lockdown until dinner, when the guards reluctantly allowed them all freedom from their cells to make their way down to the canteen. The whole affair is normal as ever, as if Keith and Shiro didn’t just almost murder four people in front of everyone. In a way, it’s kind of comforting, their utterly absent fucks given. The only notable difference is that a lot more people are staring at Lance but none dare approach. Even with his,  _ ugh,  _ ‘protectors’ under lock and key they still have an incredibly strong influence in gen pop. He sits quietly with Hunk and Pidge, picking at his food with his stewing resentment keeping him from being able to eat.

He is thankful when he is able to return to his cell. Practically collapsing onto his bunk, he buries his head into his thin pillow and lets out a long scream. The material manages to hide most of the noise but it does little to stop Hunk from hearing it as he mosies in. 

Hunk scoffs in amusement and shakes his head, reaching out and patting Lance comfortingly on the back. Lance answers with a groan this time, sounding entirely defeated. “There, there, man, it really isn’t all that bad.”

Lance’s head shoots up and he grimaces at his cellmate, “ _ ‘Not that bad?’  _ Hunk, that was the most  _ asshole  _ thing they’ve ever done to me! Like, what kind of weird, alpha male mindset are they in?!” He tries to mimic Keith’s deeper voice, completely butchering it, “ _ ‘Lance McClain belongs to us.’  _ What a fucking tool! I can’t  _ believe  _ they did this to me!”

Hunk sighs and sits on his bunk with a shrug of his shoulders, “Or? Instead of yelling, which you’re very good at, you could think about this  _ rationally. _ ”

“Oh?! What part of this is  _ rational?! _ ”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the part where you got your ass kicked so now they’re  _ protecting  _ you?! Without even asking for anything in return, do you know how good of a deal that is?”

Lance falls onto his back, facing the ceiling and lamenting his life, “First of all, they never even asked me about all this so spirits only know if they want something from me! Oh no-” he peers over the side, eyes wide with something akin to mortal peril, “-Hunk, what if they want  _ sex  _ favors from me?!”

“Haven’t you slept with them before…?”

“Yes, but that isn’t the  _ point! _ ”

“You of all people should know they wouldn’t do that.” Hunk points out.

That is true. But contempt and a lust for revenge do strange things to a person. Wait- revenge.  _ Revenge.  _ He bolts upright and swings his legs over the side before dropping down to the floor. He grabs Hunk’s shoulders and stares into his eyes, “Hunk. I know what’s going on.”

Surprisingly, Hunk looks a little nervous. His mouth twitches into some semblance of a smile and he questions, “O-oh?”

Disregarding his friend’s odd behavior, Lance nods, “Yes. Remember when I was telling you about the Galra Gang’s whole vengeance mentality, the  _ eye for an eye  _ thing?”

“Uh, yeah? And how it’s so fucking stupid I could scream?”

“That’s irrelevant because Keith and Shiro, and me I guess, are just as stupid.” Lance shakes his head and backs off, crossing his arms and tapping his chin, “This is obviously a ploy for revenge! Think about it- I get beaten up to all hell, it’s the  _ perfect  _ opportunity for them. They swoop in, avenge me or whatever, make a whole big dramatic public statement about me being their bitch, and then  _ boom!  _ They can torment me forever because now I’m dependent on them to keep me safe from the masses!”

Hunk stares at him with a dumbfounded expression. He slowly nods, “Well, yeah, I can totally see that being a reason.”

“Exactly!”

“Or maybe they just genuinely want to protect you?”

“Shut up with all that, I’m the  _ last  _ person they want safe. Now,” he walks over to the sink to begin his nightly routine of washing his face with the hand soap they’re allotted (the  _ worst  _ thing but it’s all he’s got) and brushing his teeth until they sparkle, “what do they have planned for me? I have to think ahead, so I can catch them unaware. They’re only going to be in the cooler and then solitary for what, four days? Not a lot of time to make a game plan.”

Hunk just rolls his eyes, keeping his true knowledge of their plan to himself as he waits his turn to brush his teeth. 

Suddenly, there’s a heavy knock at their cell door. It slides open to reveal Lance’s guardswoman and two other of her coworkers. Lance, hands wet beneath the faucet, looks up with a deep frown, “Woah, hey, I didn’t have nothing to do with what hap-”

“I didn’t come for that.” She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. Grabbing the iron cuffs hanging at her belt, she walks further into the cell, “You need to come with me.”

Hunk peers at the guards stoically, not interfering with whatever business they have with Lance.

He turns off the faucet and wipes his hands on his tunic. She tracks his hands like a hawk, probably expecting him to waterbend at any moment. “Why?” He asks.

Her gaze cuts back to his face as she says, “Warden Lotor wishes to speak with you. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh, what could the big man want   
> omg plot!?!?! in MY prison ATLA dark au?!!? shocking  
> anyways, thanks for reading. i am really getting back into the swing of writing for this. i'm really enjoying it, and i actually have a plan now so we out here  
> i am trying to get my friends to use this term of mine "we fuckin" or "oh man, she/he/they fuck" it basically means "we're cool" or "she/he/they are cool" bc it insinuates they get mad pussy lmao you should get people to use it so it becomes a thing  
> anyways  
> my first week of my second year's second semester of college was alright, im already tired but this fic gives me the strength to carry on  
> love yall *mwah*  
> catch ya on the soul side


	19. Hope you guess my name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Just as every cop is a criminal_  
>  _And all the sinners saints."_  
>  -The Rolling Stone, _Sympathy for the Devil_

It’s a long march to the solitary guard tower which houses the pristine office of Warden Lotor, on the far end of the prison. Lance watches the journey traveled carefully, taking thoughtful notes of turns taken and the multitude of locked doors. To get to the tower in the first place, they must exit through a series of confusing barred hallways near D Block, a place Lance will hardly find himself occupying if he knows what’s good for him. After that is a quick jaunt across a catwalk suspended above an abandoned section of prison. It must have used to been another canteen given by its size.

Then they emerge outside through a large metal door which is heavily guarded with at least five firebenders at all times. The guard tower looks just like any of the others except it’s set off further from the rest. He recognizes it easily as where he first met the Warden. The waterbender is lead up a long flight of metal stairs within by the guardswoman’s steady grip on his boney elbow. His heart begins to hammer in his chest and a cold sweat breaks out across his skin. He hasn’t bended and has already been punished for the whole riot fiasco. What has he done to constitute an audience with the  _ Warden  _ of all people?

They finally reach their destination. A bland door, unmarked and like all the others- the entrance to Lotor’s personal office. He supposes the commonness is to trick any homicidal escapees that might come looking for the big man in charge in a hairbrained attempt at some revenge. Not too shabby an idea, the extra time bought by the confusion would probably be enough for reinforcements to come to their boss’ aid. Something about Lotor gives Lance the heebie jeebies, though, and tells him the Warden would have no issue dealing with defectors himself. 

The guardswoman knocks sharply and straightens her perfect posture. Lance finds himself unconsciously mimicking her and rolls his shoulders back to appear larger and more sure of himself. His fists tighten in his shackles. He’s nervous but tries to keep it off his face. 

“Enter.” Comes the calm drawl from within.

She wastes no time in pushing open the metal door, dragging in Lance beside her as she offers a respectful bow. The other guards follow her suit yet remain outside. Their presence will only crowd the place, as Lotor’s office is incredibly small. The large window in the far side of the room remains the same but the darkness outside allows Lance to keep his vision intact this time around. At the desk before it resides the regal Warden.

Lotor is looking over a pile of files on his desk and pays them little mind. The three exist in silence for a moment or two before Lotor hums softly to himself and shuts the top most file. His sharp lilac eyes flit upwards to Lance and the guardswoman. A polite smile slides across his handsome features and he nods his head to her, “Thank you, Axca.”

So  _ that’s  _ her name! Lance glances at Axca and comments, “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Her gaze cuts to his and she glares with a deathly coldness that almost has him running for the hills. Too bad her grip stays  _ exceedingly  _ tight around his arm. “Quiet, McClain.”

Lotor chuckles and waves a hand, forgiving Lance in her stead, “Isn’t she a vision? My most trusted guard, I hand picked her myself.” His smile turns sharp, “Her specialty is putting loudmouths in their place.”

Lance swallows nervously, “Noted.” 

“She is also so loyal she would kill for me.”

_ Geeze, I get it, she’s a bad bitch. _

“Have you ever had someone who would kill for you, Lance? Who would  _ truly  _ be willing to?” Questions Lotor as he rests his pointed chin on the palm of his hand. He studies Lance like a bored scholar does a routine dissection. The startling intelligence behind those eagle eyes is enough to set Lance’s teeth on edge.

The question makes him uncomfortable which must be the point. Lance clears his throat before answering, “Unfortunately, but I think you already know that.”

Lotor nods in confirmation, “That I do. I know a lot about you, Lance.”

“I’m flattered.”

“And I’m glad my prison hasn’t bled the humor from you.” He glances down at Lance’s side and his fingers twitch towards it, “How are the ribs?”

Lance wants to hide the area with his hands but is unable to. Instead his arms twist in their restraints uselessly. He shrugs, “I’ll live.”

“You took quite the beating. The medic kept me updated on your condition. I was pleased that you weren’t hurt  _ too  _ badly. That would reflect poorly on both my prison and my guards.”

Biting his tongue is all that he can do to keep himself from snapping about the many other instances of fights that already give the place a bad reputation. The guards don’t exactly  _ care,  _ not that Warden Lotor is pushing them to do anything about it. 

“Although, today’s spectacle has already proven to do that.” Lotor leans back in his chair, eyelids lowering into a narrow glare, “Why is it that your arrival has marked the beginning of a rash spring of violence?”

Lance sucks in an apprehensive breath. He tries for humor, as usual, to mask the tremors in his fingers, “I guess I’m just one unlucky son of a bitch.”

“Ha!” Lotor laughs again, “That you are! First you’re a waterbender thrown into a prison full of firebenders, then you come across not only  _ one  _ of your ex-boyfriends, but  _ two- _ the very ones you stabbed in the back, no less _.  _ You haven’t been dealt a fair hand.”

Not sure how to answer that with anything but pissiness, Lance looks away.

Unperturbed, Lotor continues, “But that isn’t to say this isn’t a good opportunity for you. Believe or not, I’m  _ glad  _ you’ve caused so much trouble. Especially with Kogane and Shirogane.”

Their names drag Lance’s attention back to the Warden, which doesn’t go unnoticed. The other man’s smile widens into a grin that makes Lance’s skin crawl. It reminds him of Haggard, the lingering viciousness that dances along Lotor’s pearly white teeth.

“What…,” Lance hesitates to ask, almost dreading the answer as it most certainly cannot be good, “what do you mean?”

“The two have become quite the thorn in my side.” Lotor begins to explain, “With most of the incidents involving them, somebody always ends up dead. Luckily that wasn’t the case this time around. While those poor inmates will be in the med bay for quite awhile, they’re in stable condition.”

A rush of relief breezes through Lance like a cooling wind from a wooden fan. He didn’t make Keith and Shiro into murderers for yet another time. 

“But this is getting out of hand. They own the general population. Their violence will only encourage others to do the same.”

Lance frowns, “So? Just transfer them, then.”

“I tried,” Lotor’s grin falters into a frustrated expression, “but not even two days into their removal and I had three  _ riots  _ on my hands! I lost six guards in those two days, and almost forty inmates.”

Wow. Shiro and Keith really  _ do  _ own this place. That must really bust Lotor’s balls.

“So I had them returned and, just like that,” he snaps his manicured fingers, “peace was restored. It was then I realized they police this place better than my guards can. They know the ins and outs of what my guards cannot see- the psyche of the inmates themselves.”

“Sounds about right. Look, I’m still not sure what this has to do with me.” Lance says.

“It has everything to do with you, Lance.” Lotor smiles again, moving to rest his ankle on his adjacent knee. “You are their one source of desire. Never, in their two years here, have they publicly claimed someone under their protection.” He raises his hand to cut Lance off as the other opens his mouth to retort, “Garrett and Holt were unspoken. You think I haven’t done my research, Lance? You, Shirogane, and Kogane were romantically involved in your time with the Galra Gang. You sold them out, and now here you are, stuck with them. Honestly, I’m surprised they still care.”

Lance clenches his teeth, “They don’t. If you’re thinking of using me to get to them, it won’t work. They’re only doing this to make my life a living hell.”

Lotor hums again, gaze alight with a knowledge Lance isn’t privy to, “That’s neither here nor there. Their reason for taking you in is irrelevant. They lust for you, and you know it.”

An embarrassed heat rises to Lance’s cheeks. What a jackass. 

“And if I control the subject of their affection, I control them.”

“Using me won’t help you!” Lance snaps, “Do you honestly think they’ll listen to anything I say?”

“I do, actually.” Lotor says, “And never raise your voice with me again, or Axca will slit your throat before you can take your next breath.”

The waterbender glances at the guardswoman, noting the long dagger resting at her side, begging for a reason to be released from its sheath. He looks away with a reluctant compliance and takes a deep breath, “Fine. Say they act like you think they will and I can somehow convince them to do things I want. What would you have me do?”

Lotor says, “Keep them calm is all that I ask. No fights, no injuries, no riots.” He rests his hands on the desk, “Nothing too difficult.”

_ ‘Nothing too difficult,’ my ass.  _ Lance almost snorts but manages to contain it. He doesn’t like this, not one bit. Making a commitment to anything Lotor says feels like a pretty bad plan with all things considered. Then he thinks, what choice does he have, really? Taking the chance, Lance asks, “And if I say no? You do what, out that I’m a waterbender?” So long as Lotor holds that bit over his head, he holds all the cards. 

“Spirits, no!” The Warden says on a friendly laugh, “But I cannot promise Kogane and Shirogane’s continued presence here.”

“What if that’s exactly what I want? Them out of my hair.”

“I doubt that. Besides, even if you  _ really  _ wanted them gone, what do you think will happen once those inmates they beat half to death get out of the med bay and find the only things standing in the way of revenge are gone? I hardly think they’ll leave you with just a few bruised ribs.” 

Something akin to panic bubbles within Lance and he shifts nervously from foot to foot, “You, you just said riots broke out when you tried to move them-”

“Who said anything about transferring them?” Interrupts Lotor, his grin dropping into an expression more sinister.

Those dark violet eyes say it all. Shocked dread fills the waterbender as if a cold winter wind blew across his bare arteries. His spine locks up while he bites at his bottom lip to keep his jaw from dropping open. His gaze floods with a sudden unselfish terror. He struggles to speak for a few seconds and his tongue feels heavy when he does, “Yo-you can’t  _ kill  _ them! They’re unarmed prisoners! That’s illegal!”

Lotor’s breezy smile returns, neutral and placid as if speaking with a child, “And wouldn’t it be a shame if a riot were to break out and they were unfortunately killed during the tragic event?”

Keith and Shiro-  _ dead.  _ He can’t even begin to wrap his head around the foreign concept. They’re just...that’s just...the thought is like a juggernaut, tearing his heart asunder and causing havoc in his swooping stomach. Their skin, which he caressed and kissed so tenderly, cadaverous and glacial; their eyes rendered blank and listless, lacking the familiar passionate fire they shared; their hands stiff and broken and bloodless, no longer able to take his in theirs…. He hates that all he can think about is the absolute, unbridled anguish he experiences when he thinks of their corpses. Isn’t he supposed to condemn them for their viciousness?

Finally willing himself to speak, Lance says, “What’s so different about them dying and leaving?”

“I can prevent them from being transferred, but dying?” Lotor shakes his head, “The prisoners will have no choice but to accept it, and a new king will rise. And when that happens, I’ll make sure they belong to  _ me  _ this time.” 

Lance blinks, unsure of how to respond with his mind racing like this.

“But I like Kogane and Shirogane! They’re efficient and mostly keep to themselves. Impossible to buy out but I respect that trait. I would rather avoid killing them, and that’s where you come in. Just keep them calm, act normal and play along with their demands. Become the peacekeeper I so desperately need.” Lotor stands up from his desk, moving around it to stand before Lance. Now that the Warden is at his full height, Lance finds out that the man is  _ huge.  _ At least almost two meters tall with impressively broad shoulders and pair of legs that go on for miles. Lance is almost jealous of his model physique. 

“Don’t look so down, Lance. You’re doing a great service. And, just so you see I want there to be no bad blood between us, if you can carry this out for me, I’ll even cut your sentence in half!”

Lance’s eyes snap up to Lotor’s, obvious surprise on his face. Fifteen years down to only seven and a half?! That’s...that’s too good to be true. Lotor is hiding something, Lance would be a fool not to realize it. But what real choice does he have? He says yes, and essentially tricks Keith and Shiro into being Lotor’s lapdogs and going along with whatever devious plot Lotor has planned, or he says no, and signs their death warrants. Either way, he’s going behind their backs and betraying them. Again. 

Lance isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to do it again this time. And to pull off a  _ seven year long con?  _ Who’s to say Keith and Shiro even stay interested in him that long? Their stunt today was a ploy for revenge, nothing more. Even if they do lust for him, they don’t  _ love  _ him enough anymore to bend to his every will like Lotor says. Those days are long gone.

Lotor waits patiently for an answer, perfectly content in allowing Lance a moment to think on it. The answer is obvious, however. 

Hesitantly, with the long suffering sigh of a man who honestly just wants to sleep, Lance nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omggg she updated so early is this real???  
> my knees hurt lmao  
> anyways, hope you enjoyed this. Gettin into real plot territory now. Lotor is...gonna be a little OC in this, if I'm being honest. I have a bigger plot idea and yeah...honestly, it's gonna get pretty serious.   
> But for now, enjoy some angst!  
> Toodles!  
> OH and come talk to me on Tumblr, I'm bored out of my skull. I like answering asks and generally associating with people.


	20. There's a killer on the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If you give this man a ride_  
>  _Sweet family will die._  
>  -The Doors, _Riders on the Storm_

This is not the first, or the last, time Keith has been thrown the double-whammy combo of eight hours in the cooler and a week in solitary. His tendency of getting into violent altercations has kept him a regular of the cooler’s five-star service. While it is not the worst form of torture he has been subject to, it  _ does  _ suck a huge one. Being a firebender makes it easier for him to keep himself warm in the frigid temperature. He could not imagine a non-bender lasting eight hours, or even benders of any other element- like Lance. The thought of Lance being locked in the same hellhole as Keith is enough to make his blood boil.

Heh. Good, the anger will keep his blood hot. He imagines it a bit more. Lance curled in a tiny, shaking ball in this cylinder death trap. His standard issued prison uniform nothing more than tissue paper against the cold. Keith digs his nails so tightly into his arms that they draw blood. His skin is so cold he cannot feel the abrasions. He will do just about anything to make sure Lance never experiences something like this.

Keith pries his eyes open, not even realizing he closed them. He blinks away the stiffness and glances around the cell with bloodshot eyes. It is barely large enough to fit his shoulders into and ice sticks to the metal walls. He can hardly imagine what Shiro must feel like, with his broadness and all. What he would not give to wrap Shiro into his arms and warm him. Here comes the painful part- knowing that he will not be able to see Shiro for another seven days. 

At least Lance is not a target anymore. The little jerk will realize how good this is for him even if Keith has to hold him down and explain it like he was a five year old. His pride will do nothing but get him in trouble- not that Keith can say much of anything. He would be a hypocrite if he sat here criticizing Lance’s ego all day. He is not exactly the most humble person around, either, just in a different sense than Lance. 

He rests his head on his folded arms and eyes the right wall longingly. Shiro is not even a meter away yet they cannot touch or speak. It makes him ache. The two of them are inseparable by design. It did not take Keith long to force his original cellmate to demand a change. One of Keith’s specialties while working for that bitch Haggard was intimidation, after all. He was not on the same level as Shiro but, then again, he did not like to do the whole  _ torture  _ thing. Neither did Shiro, but that did not stop him from being one of the very best at it. Keith will even go out on a limb and say Shiro was one of Haggard’s favorites.

Keith buries his head in his arms again. 

_ Tap...tap…! _

He lifts his head as his eyes raise in a flutter of dark lashes. They peer to the right.

_ Tap...tap…! _

Smiling with a sort of warmth that can withstand even the iciness of his confines, Keith reaches over and taps back. Even when they are separated, Keith and Shiro are always together.

 

* * *

 

 

Three days pass in a blur. Lance does little more than the usual- various work duties, eating at the scheduled times, wandering mindlessly about the yard with Pidge and Hunk when allowed. It takes awhile for him to fall asleep at night but he makes sure he remains stone still on his bunk, lest he bother Hunk. In the halls, gen pop, bathroom,  _ everywhere,  _ he is ignored. 

He expected more fanfare, honestly, when waking up the morning after  _ the Keith and Shiro Event _ (as he dubs it). Maybe inmates fearing him, as if he were an extension of Keith and Shiro’s power. That would have been nice. Hell, he would even take his fellow inmates pestering or mocking him about it over the  _ silent treatment! _

But no, everywhere he goes, people avoid him like the plague. In crowds they act as if he is not standing there. People who approach either Hunk or Pidge do not even look at him. Whoever works behind the counter at meals refuses to speak to him or answer when he has questions about food. It is as if he no longer exists. He used to want to keep a low profile, now he just wants things to go back to how they were. 

He supposes he cannot blame anyone for so studiously blowing him off. After  _ that  _ grand spectacle of demented, possessive violence he would do the very same, no questions about it. He would say, “you snooze, you lose!” to whomever was unlucky enough to be in his very position and forget about them. End of story, anything to preserve his own well being. Keith and Shiro are...quite terrifying, now that he thinks about it.

However, they are not so terrifying that they are going to be exempt from a HUGE piece of Lance’s mind the second they are free from solitary! 

Two more days go by as slow as tar in the winter time. Lance thinks hard on what Lotor requested of him. Keep them calm? Now how the  _ hell  _ is he supposed to do that? He currently lounges against one of the far fences beneath the hot Fire Nation sun as he dwells on it. It seems like Lotor wants a  _ distraction.  _ He wants Lance to blind Keith and Shiro to...that, Lance is not sure of. Perhaps just getting in trouble in general? Is Lotor afraid that Keith and Shiro are planning a coup? Ridiculous, they would never be so stupid.

Spirits only know the true nature of Lotor’s odd command. Honestly, though, who cares? The asshat is cutting Lance’s time served in  _ half,  _ for shit’s sake! Who is Lance to question such generosity? 

He cannot help the really,  _ really  _ bad feeling, though.

“Hey!”

Lance starts, blinking crusties from his eyes and looking up to see Pidge walking his way. He smiles and gestures to the dirt spot next to him. Hunk is off working out, something Lance really should be doing, too, but has not built up the motivation. 

The young girl plops gracelessly beside him. Their arms brush but Lance finds he does not care much anymore. Pidge is growing on him. She squints up at him, “Why’re you out here in the sun? You’re gonna get dehydrated.”

He shrugs, “Nobody’s over here.”

“Not like they’d bother you anyways.”

“Unfortunately.”

Pidge gives him a weird look but leaves it be. They sit in silence for a few seconds as she stares out across the yard, watching prisoners play games of pai-sho or kickball or walk around the perimeter. She glances over at Lance, her bright green eyes inquisitive behind her round spectacles, “I’ve got some news that might get you out of whatever funk you’re in.”

“I’m not in a  _ funk.”  _ Lance mutters.

Snorting, Pidge gives a lackadaisical shrug of her thin shoulders, “Sure, tell that to the pout on your face.”

Lance reaches up and grips his jaw out of instinct, shooting Pidge a glare as she snickers at him. Sighing, he leans back, “Okay, okay, so I’m in a funk, or whatever. What news?”

“Apparently, and this here is just from the grape vine so take it at face value, Trugg’s gone and disappeared.”

With a quick, surprised inhale through his nose, Lance sits up again. He frowns at his friend, “Huh? Whaddya mean,  _ disappeared? _ ”

“Exactly what I said. Just  _ poof!  _ One day her friends are visiting her in the med bay and the next they’re told by one of the guards she’s been  _ transferred. _ ”

Lance scoffs, “So she got transferred, then. She didn’t  _ disappear. _ ”

“I keep forgetting you haven’t been around here long.” Says Pidge. She rests her chin in the palm of her hand, “Listen, fish, you don’t just get  _ transferred  _ out of Bouldergate. The only way out is either your time is up, or in a body bag.”

“If you get any edgier, Pidgeon, you’re gonna cut me.” Lance says with a roll of his eyes.

“Shut up. Anyways, I mean it! It’s real weird, ya’know, with what all just happened.” Pidge’s voice grows curious, almost suspicious.

He does not like the way she is speaking. Lance scowls, “They’re your friends, you shouldn’t suspect them of evil doing.”

Pidge blinks, taken aback and obviously surprised by the protective tone in Lance’s words. She cocks her head, “I wasn’t thinking Shiro or Keith had anything to do with it. How would they pull off a murder like that while being in solitary? Most of the losers in here would do anything they said but even that’s a bit of a stretch.”

Lance looks away, angry and embarrassed.

“So no need to worry, loverboy!”

“I will fight an underaged girl.”

Pidge laughs his empty threat off with a dismissive wave of her hand, “You’re centuries too early to be challenging me, dumbass.”

Lance beings to laugh as well and playfully shoves Pidge’s arm, who shoves him back until the two begin to wrestle in the dirt of the yard. Pidge’s tiny stature gives her a one up on Lance and she definitely knows how to use it, easily slipping out of his grasp and locking him in a headlock. Her grip is not very strong, something he could very well break out of, but he plays along with a giggled, “Uncle! Uncle!”

She lets go and smiles hugely at him, looking every bit the young teenager she is. They go back to sitting calmly beside one another, this time their knees bump and their shoulders touch without much thought to it. Lance is surprised by how easy it is to build friendship with Pidge. They are not far off in age, after all. 

“Anyways, back to what I was saying,” Pidge says, “everyone thinks it’s weird because of how sudden it is. Nobody gets transferred in just a few hours, and we would’ve heard word from the other guards.”

Lance has to admit, he is getting intrigued by the mystery of it. The word  _ guard  _ catches his attention and his lips purse in thought, “Do you know which guard told them she transferred?” He pulls at the collar of his tunic. It really is getting hot, they should head inside the shade soon.

Pidge scratches at the side of her sweaty head and ponders for a moment. Tapping on her bottom lip, she responds, “They were definitely one of the lady guards.”

Lance’s heart skips a beat. He asks, “Pretty tall? Amber eyes, lipstick?”

“That isn’t really helping, that’s pretty vague.”

“Her name’s Axca.” Lance says, making eye contact with Pidge, “She’s like Lotor’s second-in-command. Could it have been her?”

Pidge’s face darkens, “Why do you ask? You think Trugg’s disappearance has to do with the Warden?”

Lance hesitates, unsure if he should make such an allegation. It could be dangerous, even if he is positive Pidge would never just go around telling people he likes to accuse upstanding members of society in his free time. Deciding on an inconspicuous shrug, Lance shakes his head, “Not sure. Why? Would that be a big deal?”

“Are you kidding?” Pidge says incredulously, “It would be  _ huge.  _ A warden of a high scale, super respectable prison suspected of  _ murder?  _ The scandal of the century.”

“For some reason, I don’t think the Fire Nation is too concerned with their prisoners.”

“Well, no, you’re right, but Trugg is Fire Nation. It’s different than if, say, a  _ waterbender  _ went missing.”

Lance’s heart lurches and he glances at Pidge, expecting to see her eyeing him with a terrible knowledge in her gaze. Instead she is staring off into the distance. He takes a breath as she continues.

“It wouldn’t cause much concern for the public, but for us inside? The only thing keeping the peace with all these psychopaths is exactly that.  _ Peace.  _ A homicidal, or worse, warden would fuck up the system. He’d have a coup on his hands.”

Lance nods slowly, “I see. Well, sure hope that didn’t happen. Hell, maybe she really did transfer. Maybe she convinced Lotor to move her so she wouldn’t have to be around Keith or Shiro. They’re bound to mess with her and her gang a bit after all that happened.”

Pidge does not look convinced but she lets Lance drop the subject. He is thankful. He looks away and at the metals walls encompassing the yard. Their sharp glaring shine in the harsh afternoon light makes him remember how uncomfortable he felt meeting Warden Lotor on his first day in Bouldergate. This is not the first time this week he has thought about the Warden, but now another emotion lingers. A deep uneasiness, a strange warning, silently going off in the very back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet yall thought i wouldn't update this week.  
> well you are WRONG.  
> so ah-ha!  
> anyways, sorry for the long wait, I've been busy with my screenwriting class. I have to write a SHIT TON in it lol  
> i plan to update again pretty quickly now that I'm super excited about the real plot of this story  
> Another story of mine will be coming out soon, not sure what I'ma call it yet. probably after a song lyric because i'm awful  
> anyways  
> thanks for reading, as always. Please take the time to visit me on tumblr where I can also give you my ko-fi if you're interested in helping a broke bitch out  
> anyone going to Katsucon in Baltimore, Maryland, USA in two weeks?  
> bye


	21. You know I'm no good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'Cause you're my fella my guy_  
>  _Hand me your Stella and fly_  
>  _By the time I'm out the door_  
>  _You tear men down like Roger Moore."_  
>  -Amy Winehouse, _You Know I'm No Good_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNINGS: reference to past rape of minor character, graphic sexual content (having nothing to do with sexual assault)**

The freshly washed steel beneath Trugg’s trembling body is terribly cold and the lights above her are brighter than the heavens. They blind her, keeping her unaware of what lies in wait in the shadows surrounding the operating table. She is strapped at all the vital points- wrists, ankles, neck. Whichever sick fuck has done this to her even took the liberty of binding her stomach down. Without use of her hands there is no hope for movement so she can forget firebending. The room she is held within feels like an icebox and she can see her breath fogging in panicked pants at her nostrils. 

She has never felt so afraid, so unsure of what was to come. Not even the psycho shit her old man used to pull on her was as bad as whatever the fuck this is. At least with him she knew to expect the beatings and the rape, but as for what is going to happen to her now...it hurts to swallow beneath the unforgiving pressure of the leather strap on her neck yet she does anyways.

Her wounds still feel fresh so she has not have been out long. The last thing she remembers is getting the absolute shit beaten out of her by Shirogane. She is surprised she is even alive. Her jaw has been wired shut so she assumes he broke it, and from what she can see her shoulder is bandaged up just fine. There is a faint throbbing in her jaw but she cannot feel the full brunt of the pain. She must have been drugged. That explains how difficult it is to concentrate, too.

An undetermined amount of time passes. She fades in and out of consciousness, continuously blinded by the light and frozen solid by the plummeting temperature. Whenever she is awake she studiously hopes that death comes swiftly and that this is not what she thinks it is. Whenever she is asleep she is unable to dream. It is a methodical cycle that keeps her delirious and weak- surely what her captors want. 

_ Why the silent treatment? _ She wants to ask.  _ How did I leave the prison?  _

Unless she never left the prison at all. This possibility chills her more deeply than the air ever could. She falls asleep again after the thought passes through her mind and she forgets it.

.

.

.

Upon her awakening she finds the cycle broken. A fresh wave of terror seizes her as she recognizes the familiar shape of a cloaked figure standing at the very limits of the light. She startles and pulls at her restraints, her movements stiff and odd with cold. With her jaw wired shut she can only make muffled noises of fear. She sounds pathetic to her own ears but she cannot stop her body’s instinct to escape.

The figure does not move as it watches her fruitless struggle. It remains silent as Trugg jerks and spasms until she quickly runs out of energy. The drugs are wearing off and the pain is slowly returning. She dreads its revival, especially the hell she knows she will experience in her jaw. Finally forced to slump with obvious fatigue against the operating table, Trugg’s eyes go wet. She makes a low, scared whine.

The figure decides to come to life all of the sudden. It slinks further into the light, allowing the cloak to brighten and its features become known. It is an old woman, face weathered and scarred, with long white hair separated into two thick strands on either side of her narrow head. She stares dispassionately at Trugg, perhaps even with a hint of annoyance. Her mouth is set in a perpetual frown and Trugg is hardly surprised to find that the wrinkles around it are not of the laughing kind. 

The old woman slowly approaches the table with the behavior of somebody with all the time in the world. When she meets the left side of the table, she stops and cranes her neck to inspect her victim. She parts her thin lips to speak, “I am glad that Shirogane broke your jaw. It will make things far more bearable.”

Tears spill out of Trugg’s eyes as she begins to struggle once more, screaming as much as her broken jaw will allow regardless of the painful consequences. 

 

* * *

 

**ONE WEEK LATER**

 

It is breakfast time on the seventh day after the  _ Keith and Shiro Incident,  _ marking the end of their solitary confinement. Lance is none too happy with the realization that he has to talk to them  _ today,  _ especially considering a week was totally not enough time for him to think up what exactly to say to them. Nonetheless, the time is now and he needs to man up already.

Hunk, Lance, and Pidge sit at their usual spot in the canteen and pick at their sparse meals. It is rice balls, fish, and broth this morning, a very basic and not entirely nutritious meal but a meal regardless. Hunk is quick to scarf his down and return to the line for seconds while Pidge and Lance pace themselves. Lance cannot get anything down anyways.

Lance supposes he has glanced around the room one too many times for Pidge suddenly pipes, “They’re allowed time in their room after solitary. They most likely already got fed breakfast in the hole.”

Snapping his wayward attention back to Pidge, Lance’s face heats with irritated embarrassment, “Like I care.”

“The bratty act is only cute the first few times, Lance.” Pidge teases.

Biting angrily at his rice ball, Lance glowers at her. Hunk snorts before smiling gently at Lance, “You should get going if you want to talk to them before chores start up. They may not be allowed in the yard today if the guards still feel cautious.”

Lance grunts his displeased agreement as nervousness brews heavier in his stomach. He hates how it makes his fingers twitch so he busies them with shoving food into his mouth with little thought to manners. Pidge’s face scrunches in disgust and Hunk rolls his eyes. Lance gives them little mind as he finishes his meal.

He stands from the table and frowns deeply, “Well, off I go.” He does not move.

“Bye, Lance.” They chorus back.

“Yup. It’s time.”

“Sure is, buddy.” Says Hunk.

“To speak with Shiro and Keith.”

“Will you just fucking  _ go?! _ ” Pidge snaps, throwing her arms in the air.

“Okay! Okay!” Lance snipes as he hurries from the table, “Yeesh.” He buries his hands into his pockets and heads towards the doors of the mess hall. As per his new usual nobody approaches him to ask where he is going. At the doors he meets Axca, who watches him silently beneath her helmet. His face says all she needs to know and she gives him a brief nod. So long as it has to do with keeping Shiro and Keith in line, she will let him do just about anything. 

On his way to D Block he often glances over his shoulder to see if she, or anyone else for that matter, is following him. Nobody is ever there but that does not stop his paranoia. Ever since his talk with Lotor, he has noticed Axca’s presence more than ever. It does little to comfort him but that is not what she is there for, he guesses. The walk is quiet and uneventful, so he is left to a tempest of panicked thoughts that get louder and louder the closer he gets to their cell.

He climbs the metal stairs to the next floor up. Their shared cell is on the second floor of D Block, the third in the long row. His eyes cast to the ground as he approaches, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he does one final mull over. With their week long absence, Lotor’s plans, and his own trepidation, it is hard for Lance to find that anger he felt before. It is hidden beneath fear-  both  _ of  _ and  _ for  _ Keith and Shiro. 

Glancing up, Lance sucks in a breath as he realizes the next cell is theirs. He stops for a short, rather dorky pep talk, trying to breathe deeply in order to calm his raging blood. All attempts are madly unsuccessful but somehow Lance feels a bit better after reminding himself of the potential danger the two are in if he decides to turn back. He has to go along with this, for all their sakes.

Lance steels himself and rounds the corner to their cell, one hand grasping onto the wall for dear life and the other tangled if the looseness of his tunic, “Shiro, Keiii _ iiahhhHHH!”  _ He breaks off into a surprised yelp.

He...probably should have knocked first, for within the more intimate setting of their shared cell, Keith and Shiro are definitely  _ not  _ sitting around reading or doing whatever inmates do in their free time. 

Both of their shirts are discarded in heaps near the front of the cell, leaving the two shirtless and sweaty as they thrust against one another. Shiro has one hand at the small of Keith’s back to hoist his hips up while his other hand jerks quickly over Keith’s slick cock. Keith, who had been previously sucking deep hickies into Shiro’s naked chest and moaning wantonly before Lance interrupted, whips his head towards the source of the commotion. When his eyes set on Lance they widen from their pleasure ridden state and his hips jerk helplessly.

His exclamation loses its vigor as he moans, “L-Lance?!”

Shiro looks up with the same expression of surprise. It is then that Lance notices the whiteness dripping from the corner of the other man’s mouth. Oh spirits, he had been  _ sucking Keith off  _ before Lance arrived. 

Thoughtlessly, Lance’s eyes flit down to Keith’s still erect penis, just as large and-and- _ beautiful _ as Lance remembers it being. His mouth goes bone dry as all the blood present in his brain sounds the alarm and retreats southwards into a place it  _ definitely  _ should not be. 

A few seconds pass and the two men still have not made any attempts to hide their activities. Keith continues to writhe with barely suppressed moans in Shiro’s arms, not tearing his gaze from Lance. Not that Lance is any better- he is still staring at Keith’s nudity.

“...Lance?” Rumbles Shiro, his tone rough with a carnal desire Lance has not heard in a long time. It goes straight to the waterbender’s cock and he gasps with sudden realization.

What is he doing?! Lance springs into action, turning on his heel and covering his eyes even though he is no longer looking at them, “Shit! I’m sorry! I didn’t know-fuck, y’all just do that out in the open?!”

There is a sigh behind him and an annoyed mutter. Shiro answers him, “We’re in our own cell, Lance, prison etiquette dictates you just keep walking.”

“Ha! Etiquette, in a place like this?” Lance laughs nervously, “Fuck, shit- you know what? I’ll come back later. Proceed!”

“Lance.” Comes Keith’s growl, sounding not much different from his earlier moans of ecstasy.

“Nope! Not dealing with this one! Bye!” With that, Lance takes off back the way he came, trying his best not to waddle awkwardly as he runs with a massive hard on.

“Lance!” The two of them yell but it is too late. Lance is gone.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tried to balance this out with humor and seriousness  
> uhmm  
> yea  
> anyways  
> glad you liked it, or hell, glad you didnt like it if you didnt  
> they'll talk eventually, i'm sure  
> thanks for reading, as always! i have gotten a lot of nice asks on tumblr, it means a lot, I love talking  
> until next time!


	22. One baby to another says, "I'm lucky to have met you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Chew my meat for you_  
>  _Pass it back and forth in a passionate kiss_  
>  _From my mouth to yours."_  
>  -Nirvana, _Drain You_

That evening finds Lance sitting quietly in the squat library located not too far away from the canteen. He sticks to the open tables near the front of the room, not liking the look of the darker rows of dusty books near the back. He has little interest of being attacked or propositioned, thanks! To be honest, Lance was never much of a reader before his confinement but the long hours of doing jackshit nothing changes that about a man. Adventures and romances are tolerable, especially if they are combined in the plot. 

The second book he has taken the time to read since the start of his incarceration is better than the first one. He went through some trial and error finding something that stuck out to him. A lot of the books were educational or historical, total drool fests for the normal john. On three high shelves near the back, however, he managed to find a goldmine of fantasy adventure novels. Just beneath those, trashy romance featuring along the same lines: a Fire Nation soldier coming home in need of some tender loving kisses on all his wounds, both physically and mentally. Pardoning the obvious nationalism and racism, they are actually pretty entertaining. Usually he replaces the Fire Nation with Water Tribe and it is A-Okay from there.

It is a romance he reads currently, a little different from the status quo. A beautiful young woman (because is it not always?) falling for a spirit who takes the form of an equally as beautiful man. Being the dumb sucker for supernatural romps that he is, Lance is quick to get heavily involved in the convoluted plot. He lives vicariously through the woman on the page and imagines with little effort a gorgeous man spiriting him away to a heavenly land. It sounds fantastic given his living conditions. 

He sighs heavily as he reads a particularly sappy line, painfully reminded that he has not been romanced in almost two and half years. After Shiro and Keith...he just could not bring himself to do it, to go out and pursue and be pursued. Besides, blind Fire Nation sheep really are not Lance’s type and his town was full of them. Shiro and Keith were the only ones he met who bothered questioning the morality of genocide.

Shaking off those thoughts, Lance realizes he lost his place when his mind wandered. His eyes jump back a few lines and reread them. The woman is fantasizing about her lover and it is getting a little hot under the collar. Lance is not much affected, though, it has been hard for him to get aroused in the past years. Well, not horrendously difficult just...he did not see a point to it. He lost his drive, he supposes. He could count the number of times he consciously and willingly got hard on one hand, with the latest time being-

He grits his teeth and shuts his book. This morning was a mistake. He should have known better than to seek them out right after their release. Being away from your lover for a week is bound to have two healthy men high strung. He was foolish and he should just forget about it quickly. Unfortunately it is hard for him to banish the images away. They are glued to the back of his eyelids. He can only be thankful the two had not been completely naked. He does not think he would have survived  _ that.  _ He buries his head into his hands with a repressed groan and presses his thumbs against his closed eyes. 

The door to the library opens with a soft slide across the metal flooring. Lance glances up, more prone to paranoia with all the shit he has been put through in the past week, and his heart plummets into his stomach. He rushes for his book and opens to a random page, curling in on himself to be less noticeable and shoving his nose so far into the novel that his nose brushes the crack of the spine. Why did he have to be a complete pussy and sit where  _ anyone  _ can see him?!

His ruse, of course, does not work. The chairs beside and across from him pull out from the table and bodies plop into them. He frowns but tries to keep his face stoic and his eyes on the words he cannot hardly sees anymore. There is a humorless scoff and then his hands are suddenly grabbing at air instead of paper. His fingers linger before curling into fists and setting against the table top, his narrowed blue eyes jumping over to the two.

Shiro sits across from him but leans forward onto his elbows, making the space between them far less. Lance turns his head to glare at Keith who holds the book and reads the cover with a raised bushy eyebrow.

“ _ Cloaked Lust _ ?” Keith reads in an amused tone of voice, “Really?”

Lance cannot hold back the blush that explodes across his cheeks. He snatches at the novel in the other man’s hands, both furious and embarrassed at having being caught by them reading such a title. “Give that back, asshole!” 

Keith keeps it out of his range and flips it over to read the back cover. He presses his other hand to Lance’s shoulder, a steady grip that does wonders with holding him at bay. A small smile is playing on his lips as he quotes, “‘ _ Marceline always had a feeling she was being watched, she just didn’t know by what,’  _ huh? Sounds sexy.”

More mortification steams at Lance’s ears. Before he has a chance to cuss Keith out again, Shiro reaches over and grabs the book from Keith’s hands. The two look to their elder as he flips through the first few pages, “Ah, I read this.” He says absently with a dull recognition in his gaze.

“You did?” Both Keith and Lance say quizzically. Keith removes his hand from Lance’s shoulder, startling the waterbender. He had not even realized Keith had touched him in their squabble. It is unnervingly easy to fall back into their old familiar dynamic so Lance angles his body away from the other. Keith’s expression darkens but he keeps his mouth shut.

Shiro smiles and sets the book down on Lance’s side of the table, “I’ve read a lot of stuff in here. I don’t just exercise all day, you know.”

Lance pretends that does not make him feel better about being caught and snatches the novel back. He shoves it beneath his right thigh and crosses his arms at his chest, adopting a facade of carelessness even though his face is still red and his body trembles slightly. Shiro watches him with friendliness. Keith might look bored but he is turned in his chair towards Lance and leans forward with one of his forearms on his knee. 

The waterbender quivers beneath their twin gazes for a moment before deciding to break the awkward silence, “Did you two come to harass my reading choices or do you actually have something to say?”

“I could say the same,” Keith says, “You obviously needed something earlier.”

The word _earlier_ and suddenly all Lance can see in his mind’s eye is Keith’s uncut cock slipping between Shiro’s calloused fingers. He swallows minutely and nods, “Ah- yeah. I _do_ need to talk to you.” He glances around, seeing a few inmates at different tables quietly reading and pretending Shiro and Keith are not there. He hardly blames them and takes a steadying breath. They are also ignoring _Lance._

Luckily his simmering anger is quick to reappear as he recalls the new attitudes the other inmates have adopted towards him. It helps him momentarily distract himself from this morning’s blunders and instead focus on the issue at hand. “But,” He looks back to them with a sudden sharp glare, icy and accusatory, “I can’t exactly scream at you two here.” 

Shiro straightens, face resigned with an apprehensive knowledge. Keith frowns heavily but his eyes show a familiar nervousness. Lance hardly understands why, it is not like his words will mean anything to them at the end of the day. He can scream all he likes but that will not change what they have done, what  _ all  _ of them have done. But damn! He wants to let it all out for once!

Lance stands abruptly and scowls down at them, “Shall we?” He gestures to the door of the library. 

Keith and Shiro share a look that says more than words could before standing as well. They follow Lance as the waterbender prowls towards the entrance. 

.

.

.

They choose the more private setting of Keith and Shiro’s shared cell just in case Hunk is in Lance’s. No need to bother him with Lance’s issues. Once inside, Shiro offers Lance the same seat as before and he begrudgingly takes it, figuring this will take awhile. Keith stands at the side of the bunks looking uncomfortable. Good. Let him squirm. Lance knows how much Keith detests verbal confrontation. He would much rather deal with things through action but, unfortunately for his emotionally constipated ass, they have already done enough  _ action  _ for an entire lifetime.

Shiro sits on the bottom bunk. The closeness of the top bunk forces him to lean forward and sit his bent elbows on his knees. His hands hang harmlessly between his legs. He appears worried yet understanding- he knows what is coming and has already braced himself for it. Lance hates that Shiro is so hard to rile up.

The three sit in awkward silence for the brief period it takes for Lance to get his thoughts in order. When he finally takes a breath to begin, Keith’s spine stiffens.

“I want to say I can’t believe the shit you two pulled but I really can’t.” Lance says slowly. He shrugs with a baleful, breathy chuckle, “And I’m mad, I’m  _ livid,  _ but fuck- I can’t even really be that, now can I?” His expression is a strange mix of sick amusement, pain, and fury, and he knows he must look half mad. It hardly matters, though.

Keith and Shiro look at each other again but stay quiet.

“It’s the fucking Galra way, right? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, all that crap. This is obviously your payback for what I did to you. I ruin your lives out there, you ruin my life in here.” Lance has always had a hard time staying in one place even when he is not all hyped up on emotional adrenaline. His knees begin to bounce and his hands clasp and unclasp at random. “Just-” he grits his teeth, “-fuck, I’m so damn  _ angry!  _ And embarrassed! And-and-and-” He cuts himself off before he can admit that he is scared out of his damn mind. Scared of  _ them  _ and what they will do- or worse, what they will  _ not  _ do. _.  _

He sighs into his open palms and then says, voice pressed against his rough skin, “I don’t deserve to be angry with either of you. I deserve everything coming to me, I know it. I fucked up and you two suffered for it. You have fucking  _ life sentences  _ because of me. I can rationalize it all I want to make myself feel better- that this all is for my family, but...you were my family, too.” His voice cracks at the end and he curses his weakness. 

Keith inhales sharply and looks at Shiro, his eyes wide and pleading. The older man gazes back before refocusing on Lance. He licks his lips nervously, “Lance-”

“What do you want me to do?” Lance asks, his eyes set on the floor and full of a deep seated regret. “You obviously made me your little bitch for a reason. What, you want a punching bag? A whore?” 

“Lance, no-”

“Don’t say that!” Lance abruptly snaps, head snapping up and fury returning full force. His limbs tremble and his forehead breaks out into a cold, terrified sweat. “Don’t act as if everything is alright! I  _ ruined  _ your lives!” He shoots to his feet as he exclaims, fists tight at his side to hid their tremors. “You trusted and  _ loved  _ me and I fucking betrayed you! Don’t pretend like that’s gone and done with just because I’m in the same boat as you two now!” His voice is a minefield of self-deprecation and misplaced anger.

Keith shakes his head and takes a step towards Lance, mirroring their conversation weeks ago with how he begins to crowd the waterbender’s space, “Will you just shut up and listen for a second! We already got our revenge, fighting Trugg and her gang wasn’t about that!”

“Do you even realize what you’ve done, Keith?!” Lance snarls back, “How could that have been anything  _ but  _ revenge?! People won’t even acknowledge me because they’re so fucking terrified of you two to even be associated with me! They all think you two do whatever you want to me- they think I’m  _ weak-  _ and now I  _ have  _ to do whatever you two want because if you stop protecting me they’ll attack me in  _ droves! _ ”

“It wasn’t our revenge!”

“Then what was?!”

“Stop it! Right now!” Shiro barks, standing up from the bunk to apprehend the two. He towers over them with a determined expression, placing a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder to back him away from Lance. “What use is yelling? We need to calm down and discuss this like adults. Please- Lance, will you sit down? Keith, get your ass on that bunk.”

Keith turns with a sharp  _ tsk!  _ but does as Shiro commands, taking a seat on the bunk right beside where Shiro did. Lance hesitates but sees the merit in following suit. He folds himself back into the chair by the front and digs his fingers into his kneecaps.

Shiro sighs softly before offering a strained smile, “Thank you. Now, Lance, thank you for explaining your feelings to us. Keith and I have talked extensively on the subject of your betrayal, and I’m going to be very honest with you. Until you came and spoke with us that one night, we were both dead set on making your life hell.”

Lance hates that he flinches. That sort of plot is what he deserves, after all.

“But then you told us about your family. About how Haggard was threatening to expose them. Then we understood.”

What? Lance’s eyes widen, “U-understood?”

“Yes,” Shiro nods, “don’t get us wrong, Lance, we were still  _ very  _ angry, all things considered but...Lance, you didn’t have much of a choice.”

“...huh?” Lance is beyond dumbfounded.

Keith rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, his plush mouth pulled into an annoyed scowl. Shiro continues, “You knew Keith and I for only two years before everything happened. How can we possibly be mad at you for choosing your family over two men you practically just met?”

“Uh- very? Shiro, you’re in here for  _ life.  _ I don’t think you’re understanding what that means, exactly.”

Shiro only smiles, a mysterious tilt to the handsome quirk, “Sure, officially. Anyways, Lance, the point is- there’s no need for revenge, really. You’re in prison, just like we are, and if we so choose we can mess with you a bit whenever we want regardless of us protecting you.” He shrugs as if it could not possibly matter, “Seems pretty fair to me.”

Lance blinks slowly for a second and then raises an eyebrow, “So...what’s the whole protection thing about, then? If not some demented way to harass me.”

Keith groans loudly, tipping his head back dramatically, “We can’t just want to beat the shit out people who hurt you?” He drops his head again to look at Lance, something akin to friendliness in his gaze. It makes Lance’s neck hot. “We’re not out to get you. Anymore.”

Shiro chuckles at Keith’s words as Lance fumbles to string together a response, “I’m sorry for how the other prisoners are treating you, Lance, but I don’t really understand why it matters that much. You have Pidge and Hunk, and us, too.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, “why do you need anyone else?”

There is a hint of something familiar and dark in the firebender’s tone that does strange things to Lance’s stomach. For some reason he recalls how viciously Keith beat Raht to a pulp in the yard. It is not the prettiest picture so he pushes it away just as quickly as it appears. Lance shrugs, “You know I’m a social butterfly!”

“These people aren’t normal citizens, Lance. They won’t make good friends.”

“Uhhh, I’m in here too, aren’t I?” Lance rolls his eyes at Keith’s strange behavior and writes it off as him being paranoid of more people like Trugg approaching him.

Keith snorts, “Like you’re a crazy killer.”

Lance scowls at him even as his heart skips a beat at Keith’s joking tone. This is...like it had been before all this shit happened. He is not exactly sure what to make of it. Glancing over at Shiro he finds the older man watching them with a happiness so obvious it almost makes him blush. This certainly was not what Lance was expecting when he went off with them. 

“Anyway!” Lance suddenly exclaims as he stands up from his seat, “Uh- it’s almost time for dinner. I’m gonna, erm, go get Hunk.”

Shiro and Keith stand as well. Shiro says, “We’ll come, too.”

“Oh-uh-yeah, sure, of course.”

This is fucking weird.

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t like what you did.”

Shiro eyes Keith with annoyance as he brushes his teeth at their sink. He leans over and spits into the basin before speaking, “What do you mean?”

“Manipulating him like that. Lying to him.” Keith says from the top bunk.

“And how did I lie to him?”

Keith sits up and frowns at his lover, “You told him revenge wasn’t necessary when we were the ones who got his ass beat and made it so he would  _ have  _ to be protected!”

“He never asked.” Shiro shrugs and wipes his mouth. He walks over to his bunk and readies his sleeping area. “And you almost fucked up.”

Staring down at Shiro, Keith’s hackles raise, “Huh? How?”

“You almost told him about Trugg.” Shiro looks up and his eyes are dark. Keith’s chest tightens and he swallows minutely.

“I-I just-” Keith stutters, utterly useless beneath the power of that disappointed gaze.

Shiro stares at Keith and lets him fidget uncomfortably until the sight makes him feel sorry for the younger man. He sighs and relaxes his face into a kinder expression, “I know you’re just in love again. It’s not a huge deal. I forgive you.”

Keith releases a breath he did not realize he had been holding and it shudders against his lungs, “Th-thanks. I just, uh, care, you know.”

“I care, too, but you know this is necessary if we wish to win him back.”

“Yeah, I know.” Keith lays back on his bunk and throws his blanket over himself, “I wanna be honest with him, is all. I want to go back to how it was before.” 

Shiro reaches up and pats Keith’s hip comfortingly, keeping his voice soft and understanding even though he suddenly feels terribly sad, “Oh baby...you know it never will be.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very bad at writing emotionally driven scenes, I think  
> but i hope you liked it  
> i wanted to have Shiro manipulating Lance into no longer being angry, and I wanted Lance being all dramatic and angry that they aren't doing anything  
> Keith is just....there.  
> lmao  
> anyways  
> hope you enjoyed!


	23. I can tell that we are going to be friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"When i wake tomorrow I'll bet_  
>  _That you and I will walk together again."_  
>  -The White Stripes, _We're Going to be Friends_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings, except for a bit of sensuality.

After almost three years of not seeing Keith or Shiro, Lance had gotten used to a common solitude. Regardless of how large the crowd he stood in was, or how many other gangsters accompanied him on jobs, or how many patrons were in his mother’s tavern, he was always alone. His life took a dark and steep turn after he betrayed his lovers. It worried his mother and sisters terribly but they were powerless against his sudden brusque and suspicious attitude. He brushed off all their concerns, going so far as to snap at his mother and insult his elder sister whenever they brought up his late nights and strange wounds.

Obviously, Lance lives with many regrets. He regrets ever joining the Galra, he regrets betraying Keith and Shiro, and he regrets how he treated his family before his arrest. Now it’ll be years until he can see them again,  _ if  _ he ever sees them again. When Fire Lord Ozai wins the war spirits only know if there’ll even be any Water Tribe left. He’ll be stuck in this shit hole while his family and brethren burn beneath a genocidal dictatorship outside. One hell for another. 

Pushing away his family was the best decision he could have made, regardless of his regret. It saved their lives. He came to terms with that like swallowing a pill with a dry throat- slowly, awkwardly, and a little painfully. Being alone was better after Keith and Shiro. He opened up to them and look what happened to him! Forced servitude to a gang he’d never had joined otherwise, estranged from his only family, and now, best of all, serving  _ years  _ in a Fire Nation prison. He was more than wary of creating bonds once they were gone. He was happier alone.

That’s a lie, but Lance chooses to believe it. Whether he likes it or not, Lance is a social butterfly. He  _ needs  _ connection and friendship like fish need water. When first entering Bouldergate, he readied himself for fifteen long years of loneliness. Even so, it was better than being chained to the Galra. One upside to this hellish reality. He could live with it, he thought, he could live with being alone for a few more years. He made it this far.

Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro are quite the curveball, however. 

.

.

.

The next week following their talk is fucking weird to say the least.

Shiro and Keith follow him like lost puppies (or, more appropriately, like damn  _ attack dogs _ ) around the prison whenever they can; flanking him on either side while he walks in the yard, sitting with him when he chats and plays pai-sho with Pidge, eating with the other three at every meal. He’s a little overwhelmed by their constant presence. Lights out, chore duties, and showering are the only times he has to himself, and even then he’s almost always with Hunk or Pidge. 

It is strange, but Lance has never felt less alone than now during his incarceration. Don’t get him wrong, it still sucks total dick, but at least he has people to talk to. Not many in this place can say the same. It’s not too shitty of an ordeal...even if he does feel a bit boxed in. Shiro and Keith are a bit  _ enthusiastic  _ about his protection. It makes him a frustrating mixture of uncomfortable and, dare he say it,  _ happy.  _ He thought being under their protection would mean exchanging favors or being humiliated at every turn- but thus far he has been proven wrong. It’s only been a week but Keith  _ especially  _ has never been known for his patience. Lance believes that Shiro could wait silently for a fucking millennia so the jury’s still out on that one.

It’s not that Lance doesn’t believe what they said but...Lance doesn’t believe what they said.

So he keeps himself on his toes whenever they are around, whenever they stop by his and Hunk’s cell for a visit, whenever they slide into the seats on either side of him (which Hunk and Pidge have thus learned to vacate after Keith spent a whole lunch glaring holes into their heads). He waits for any hint of ulterior motives, of violent desires, and watches his back more than he watches what’s in front of him. It’s getting on Hunk and Pidge’s nerves, his incessant mumbling about the two men. 

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Pidge shouts at him one night, “You already got your ass beat once, don’t make me give you the sequel!”

“That was the dumbest threat I have ever heard, Pidgeon.” Lance snarks right back even though his face heats at being called out on his obsessive vigilance.

“I’ll show you dumb-”

Lance goes to bed with a bruised arm that night from all the surprisingly strong punches Pidge decided to bless him with. Hunk hardly gave him any sympathy, the big old jerk!

Two days later and he’s still on his guard around Shiro and Keith, just as his natural predator-prey instinct demands he does. He thought they were none the wiser to his suspicions but on the final day of the week, right before dinner time, they herd him into a shaded corner of the yard. 

His back presses against the warm iron surface of the prison wall and although a part of him wants to cower between the twin stares of his - friends? Acquaintances? Exes? What does he even  _ call  _ them?! - he refuses to show weakness. He glares at them with dark eyes, raising a thin brow in unimpressed question, “What’s your problem?”

Keith crowds him first, arms cross at his broad chest making his muscles bulge at the hems of his short sleeves. He frowns stormily, “I should be asking you that. What’s up with you? Why’re you acting so weird?”

Even though his heart jumps in his chest, Lance just rolls his eyes as if Keith wasn’t worth his time, “We haven’t seen each other in almost three years, Keith, do you really think I’m the exact same as I was then?” He keeps his tone passive, almost bored. He hopes it hides the tremor in his fingers.

Snorting, Keith says, “Like we haven’t been watching you since the first time we saw you in the canteen. You’re the same.”

“O-oh?”  _ Watching me?!  _ Lance wants to slap himself for how surprised he feels. Of course they were watching him. They probably spoke to Hunk and Pidge, too. Lance can’t expect them to keep their mouths shut if Keith and Shiro come asking about him. They were their friends first. 

“Yup, loud and obnoxious and oblivious.”

“Ass!”

“What Keith means,” Shiro cuts in, his tone much calmer and his stance much less intimidating. He doesn’t even lean into Lance’s space, instead choosing to give the other a wide berth, “is that you’ve been a little jumpy. Is everything alright?”

The genuine concern in Shiro’s voice makes Lance’s heart swell practically a size too big. He fidgets awkwardly, staying quiet for a fleeting moment, and then he shrugs, “Nah, I’m fine. You’re imagining things in your old age.”

Shiro huffs, “I’m only 28!”

“28 too many.”

Keith snickers, the angry expression dropping as he joins in on making fun of Shiro, “Grandpa!” He mocks as he reaches up and tugs gently at Shiro’s fringe of white.

“This-this is from  _ stress! _ ” Shiro slaps Keith’s hand away, looking insulted.The edges of his lips are tilting upwards, however, so Lance takes the opportunity to continue.

The waterbender takes a step towards Shiro and peers upwards into his face with squinted eyes. Shiro stares back almost bashfully. Then Lance grins and says, “Crow’s feet!”

Shiro sputters, “Sh-shut up! I’m not getting old!”

“Goldie oldie.” Keith jibes.

“Oh I’ll show  _ you  _ old later.” Says Shiro as he grabs at Keith’s wrist and pulls him closer. The two become locked into a brief staring contest, the elder’s incredulous expression having darkened into a look Lance can only describe as  _ bedroom eyes.  _

_ Ah. That’s familiar.  _ Lance thinks to himself as his ears and cheeks go red at Shiro’s insinuation. It’s difficult to look at the two of them without thinking of that day a week ago, when he walked in on something he definitely shouldn’t have. He still hasn’t been able to forget about it. He’s glad that he doesn’t have the cell to himself- spirits only know if he’d be able to keep his hands off himself without his own politeness keeping him from jerking it while Hunk’s in the room. 

Keith pulls away first, shooting a lingering smirk Shiro’s way before turning his attention back to Lance. His violet eyes jumps to the blush reddening the tanned bridge of Lance’s nose and the smirk grows into something much more devious. Lance swallows to compose himself, looking away and scratching at the side of his neck.

“Well was that all you two wanted to say? I’m hungry.”

Shiro smiles softly at Lance, “You don’t need to be so on edge around us, Lance. We told you- we don’t want to hurt you.”

Lance looks up and stares at Shiro for a long moment, eyebrows pulled into a questioning look. Then his face slackens and he shrugs carelessly, his tone flippant, “Sooo...what, we’re like, friends or something? Is that even possible with us?”

“Yes, Lance.” Shiro chuckles, “We’re friends.”

“Oh.”

Keith sniffs, “Friends.”

“Friends.” Shiro responds.

Friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW IT HAS BEEN A MONTH i am a piece of shit, sorry folks  
> uhmmmmm i have been very busy with school, work, and i just genuinely wanted to die sooo here we are, a month later  
> good news: i added the Black Lion to my Voltron sleeve  
> bad news: i think i have developed sleep apnea  
> hopefully i will post another update this weekend. I have been writing a oneshot and I am obsessed with it...i aimed for an M rating and only around 5k words but it looks like there might be smut in it and it's probs gonna be around 20k because i have zero self control  
> anyways, this update kinda sucks bc we're in that awkward section of in between first plot and second plot...the real juice is coming soon, as well as a NSFW chapter. VERY soon....that might take me a bit bc i am a bit rusty....  
> thanks for reading, y'all are great


	24. I've had nothing but bad luck since the day I saw the cat at my door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"She's just a devil woman,_  
>  _With evil on her mind,_  
>  _Beware the devil woman,_  
>  _She's gonna get you."_  
>  -Cliff Richard, _Devil Woman_

“You know, I never bothered asking-” Lance quips as he plays with the meager portion of grey porridge he’s forced to call his breakfast, “- but why was the witch so eager to sack you two? Weren’t y’all like, her best employees or something?” He sticks his spoon in his mouth, whole body shuddering at the strange greasy texture of the slop. He composes himself and peers to his left at Shiro.

Pidge glances up from her own tray, stabbing her spoon at a steady rhythm into its gooeyness. Her glasses reflect a shine of her own curiosity, “The witch?”

“Our old boss.” Keith grunts from Lance’s right while staring forlornly at his tray. Pidge makes an understanding noise in response.

Shiro finishes the last bite of his meal, him being the  _ adult _ of the group and understanding that nutrients are important regardless of what they taste like and all. He turns to Lance, “Ah- yeah, I suppose she wouldn’t have told you. It was classified information, after all.”

“Huh?” Lance says quizzically, “What do you mean?”

“We took something we shouldn’t have.” Keith scowls, “And she didn’t like what we were planning to do with it.”

“What was it? And what were you going to do with it?” Lance asks before his expression scrunches into annoyance, “Stop being so vague!” 

“Ah,” Pidge breezes, “was that when…?”

“Yeah. We couldn’t get to Matt in time.”

Lance’s head bobs back and forth between looking at the two, irritated confusion heavy along his thin brows and curved lips, “Who’s Matt? Pidge knows?! Can you just be not fucking annoying for once?” The more they deny an explanation, the more he hungers for one. They know he’s curious by nature, the little shits!

Rolling his dark eyes, Keith just continues to pick at his food, “Didn’t you ever think about  _ why _ Haggar wanted us gone if we were so great?”

“I mean, for a bit, yeah, but Haggar told me somebody needed to take the fall for some shipment that had been discovered. She was even more obstinate about it that you’re all being and I couldn’t exactly waltz up to her and question her motives when she could, I don’t know,  _ kill me? _ ” 

“Just say you didn’t bother and move on.” Keith sounds almost offended, his eyes cutting to the side in a a petulant fashion.

Lance’s lips purse like he’s sucking on a lemon slice, his tone lacking any of the easiness it had before, “Shut up, asshole, I did bother!”

Keith sighs heavily, resting his elbow on the tabletop and shooting a scathing look Lance’s way, “I get it, okay? She had beef on you. It’s just...” he now appears uncomfortable, “...no one’s ever believed us when we told them. And trust me- we tried warning everyone we could.”

_ Warning…? _

Pidge hums in agreement, “No one believed Matt either but at least he was smart enough to stay away from the Galra Gang whenever he could.”

Now Lance is confused again. He raises an eyebrow and turns to Shiro with hopes of enlightenment, “Care to elaborate?”

Shiro and Keith share a glance so uneasy it makes Lance’s spine straighten. It can’t be  _ that  _ bad, can it? 

“Not here.” Shiro murmurs, shooting a look full of distrust towards the nearby guards. Lance’s eyes jump to them as well, trying to keep as discreet as possible, noting Axca’s usual spot at the wall. His heart gives a little nervous jump when their eyes meet, amber clashing suspiciously with blue. Her mouth is pulled into a taut line and her arms cross stoically at her muscular chest. “You never know who’s watching.” He continues closer to Lance’s ear.

Tearing his gaze away from Axca’s, Lance begins to shove the rest of his gruel into his mouth. Once he finishes, he drops his spoon onto his tray and leans back, “Ack-that’s  _ foul.  _ So, we doin’ this?”

“Woah there, hotshot,” Laughs Shiro, “we’ve got chore duties in less than twenty minutes. Be patient, we’ll tell you. Come to our cell during free time.”

In their cell with them...alone? The last time he was in their cell…. 

“Don’t give him that look.” Keith says, “We aren’t going to jump you.”

Lance’s cheeks heat as he stands from the table, nose upturned and lips pursed, “Don’t be so full of yourself. I wasn’t thinking anything like that.” He collects his tray and water cup, draining the last of it and scrunching his nose at the metallic taste. Whose dick does he have to suck to get some  _ fresh  _ water around here? He eyes Pidge, “Coming?”

Pidge raises her hands in mock surrender at his angry tone, a teasing smirk on her lips, “Yeah, yeah, princess.”

“Shut up, dick.” He snaps back as he steps over the seat of the table, “Right after lunch!”

Keith’s frown tugs upwards into a toothy grin, his thick dark brows low over his violet eyes, “It’s a date.”

“Ew,” Lance says with petty disgust, “don’t call it that.”

.

.

.

Chores, as usual, were boring and uneventful. They were on cleaning detail this time, their entire block split off into groups and given sections of the prison to clean. After a few hours of mind numbingly sweeping, moping, and waxing each metal staircase in the building, they were finally released for lunch. He finds Shiro and Keith waiting for him on either side of the doorway to the canteen. Their presence makes some of the other inmates skittish and most conversations die out in quick passing before picking back up again once they clear the doors. Lance dramatically rolls his eyes at the sight. Can they be any edgier?

Keith spots him first and pushes himself off the wall to make way towards him with a quick gestures towards Shiro. He moves through the crowd without care for the bodies in his way, pushing and knocking into anyone who lingers too long. That makes Lance’s eyes shoot sky high, too. 

“Hey,” Keith grunts, “how were the chores?”

Lance shrugs, “Just detail duty. My back hurts like a bitch.” He stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders as if just speaking about it makes his bones ache. 

With an interested gaze follows the movement of the waterbender’s shoulders, Keith nods, “Yeah, it’ll do that to you.”

Shiro joins them then. Lance has to physically turn his head away from the dazzling 100-watt smile that’s directed his way to keep from being blinded. He swallows, “And you two?”

“Just laundry.” Keith answers.

“Lucky ducks.”

“I  _ hate  _ laundry duty.” 

“Yeah,  _ you  _ would, think about who you’re talking to, here!”

Shiro’s smile diminishes into something a little tighter as his eyes jump around the crowd. They settle back onto Lance, “Be careful with what you speak about in gen pop, Lance. We can only keep you safe from so much.”

The underlying command in Shiro’s breezy tone sets Lance’s teeth on edge. Once upon a time he would’ve thought it was endearing but now it just pisses him off. He scoffs and pushes between the others to walk into the canteen, “Like I asked for your protection- you two made that up all by yourselves. Hurry up, you owe me a story. You better have not forgotten.”

“We could never forget about you, Lance.” Shiro coquettishly teases from behind while Keith gives a relaxed laugh. 

Lance simply mimics Shiro in a rude tone of voice as he slides to a stop in the back of the line. Lunch is a quick affair after that with Lance wasting no time in scarfing down his pork and rice meal. Hunk scolds him a few times for being such a messy eater but gives up after the third or fourth try. Finally, he slams his bowl down and stares expectantly at the sources of his ire. 

Nostrils flaring in a both humored and irritated sigh, Shiro says, “Fine. Let’s go.” He swallows down the rest of his meal, prompting Keith to do the same. The three rise and Lance takes the lead as they march out of the canteen. Keith huffs something snarky about impatience that he studiously ignores.

Upon entering their cell, Lance takes the stool situated by the doorway and watches as the other two sit on the bottom bunk- Shiro’s, Lance believes. The waterbender gets a glance of the paintings of himself along the wall just before Keith’s broad shoulders hide them from view. He still can’t believe Shiro painted such a  _ suggestive  _ portrait of him! Even if it  _ is  _ really good and makes his legs look great.

He focuses back onto the two men and makes an impatient gesture with his hands, “So…?” He prods, “Why’d you get the boot, huh?”

Keith spreads his knees to get himself comfortable, half his body weight leaning towards Shiro, “I told you, we took something we shouldn’t have.”

“That could be  _ anything,  _ Keith! A box of gold pieces, a girlie mag, Haggar’s underwear-”

“Stop being gross, dipshit.”

“Then stop being needlessly enigmatic for the sake of  _ dramatics,  _ dipshit times two!”

“Quiet.” Shiro barks suddenly, “Do you want to know or not?”

“Yes!” Lance says in exasperation, “So just get on with it!”

“Keith is right- we took something, something bad.” Shiro’s face falls into abrupt seriousness. Even Keith’s angry expression gives way to uneasiness. Spirits, it can’t be that bad can it? The looks on their faces are enough to keep Lance quiet for now. “But more than that, we discovered what Haggar’s really been up to. What the Galra Gang was all about.”

Lance’s heart stutters in his chest. When he first pushed them for more information, he expected something dramatic, sure, judging by their reluctance to speak about it in public. A part of him theorized they just wanted to mess with him using a childish prank, while the other half realized there might be more to it than Lance knows. It would make sense- he was low on the totem pole in the gang. Why would she tell him anything? Especially if it’s as serious as they’re making it out to be.

Shiro continues, tone tight and pensive, “She told you some merchandise had been stolen, and it had been. By us. We were planning to smuggle it to Pidge’s brother-”

Her  _ brother?  _ Matthew Holt, right? She told him that the guy was friends with Keith and Shiro but didn’t go into much detail. Now Lance can see why if he’s involved with some black market scheme.

“-who’s a spy working for the Order of the White Lotus.”

Okay,  _ not  _ a black market scheme, but a  _ terrorist  _ scheme. Lance blanches, finally breaking out of his respectful silence, “WHAT?!”

“Shut up, idiot!” Keith snaps.

“But-  _ the  _ White Lotus? The guys who are working to topple the empire?”

Shiro nods solemnly, “Yes, brave men. They would’ve known what to do with the information we had. It would’ve benefited the resistance more than any of us could possibly know.”

Lance’s hands begin to shake. They don’t mean...is he…. He sucks in a breath, “What did you find?” He murmurs, suddenly finding it difficult to speak.

“Haggar had been experimenting for years until we accidentally came across her work. She had been messing around with drugs of all kinds, trying to find a certain strand. At first, we just thought she wanted to create a stronger psychedelic to sell, but...then we saw the people she kept trapped in her labs. What she did to them.”

A heavy ball, solidified trepidation and mounting horror, drops like a rock into a glassy surface of a calm lake. Ripples of apprehension and confusing guilt follow closely behind, chilling him to the bone and making him want to curl in on himself.

“She took people and made them monsters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all i am alive  
> i am excited now that i am getting into REAL plot!! finally now that their initial meeting and drama is over!!  
> don't be worried about romance- hardship will certainly be the push they need to rely upon one another.  
> lots of hardship to come....  
> anyways, thanks for reading!!  
> EDIT: I now have a P*tre*n. Visit my tumblr for more information! Tons of goodies to be had!


	25. She's been sleeping in the devil's bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Crazy laughter in another room_  
>  _And she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon."_  
>  \- The Eagles, _Witchy Woman_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNINGS: violence, slight horror**

**THREE WEEKS PRIOR TO KEITH AND SHIRO’S ARREST**

The calm currents of fate had already begun to accelerate into a frenzy by the time Shiro and Keith are introduced to their latest target. A boring nobody- simply another soldier, another face in the crowd, someone neither Keith nor Shiro would ever remember even if they saw him a thousand times along the streets of the Fire Nation Capital. Her usual routes are the safer ones, high end uptown and the main city square. She doesn’t have any gambling, alcohol, or drug addictions to note, and she her military record is squeaky clean. No scandals, no war crimes, no bribes. Nothing about her stands out, other than perhaps a few awards or two. Further inspection finds that those aren’t anything special either. She owes Haggar a great deal of money, though, so she can’t be as bland as her profile makes her out to be. 

Keith and Shiro discover this to be very true once they have a chance to kidnap her. She fights like a damn animal, all vicious snarls and marvelous cascading fire. Keith can admit he’s having a bit of fun fighting her. She landed a good punch at his chest that had him wheezing for breath when he got too close too fast. They  _ are  _ Haggar’s strongest men, however, so eventually the soldier is subdued. 

They have explicit instructions to bring her as undamaged as possible. Keith eyes the limp body strung across Shiro’s broad shoulders with an emotion akin to pity. Haggar must have something nasty in store for this one. He looks away. If it has nothing to do with Shiro, Lance, or his own interests, he tells himself, then it is safest to overlook it. His knuckles begin to sting as he walks and he regrets hitting the soldier so hard. Her bottom lip is terribly swollen. 

In an effort to disregard it, Keith hurries forward so that he is beside Shiro instead of behind him. They are approaching the meeting place fast, having taken a cart and ox for most of the trip. The warehouse they are supposed to drop the soldier off at is squat and unassuming. At the door waits an unnamed gangster. He is tall and solemn, his dark gaze holding no emotion for the injured woman or the men who attacked her. He opens the door without a word but doesn’t follow them inside.

Inside is an unfortunate sight. Immediately Keith’s blood begins to boil as Branko, one of Sendak’s minions, approaches them with a sleazy smile. His one amber eye glints with delight when he notices the soldier slung across Shiro’s shoulder. The other eye is a fake, purposefully crafted from fine fire ruby to give him a dramatically evil appearance. Keith thinks it’s dumb as all fuck and never hesitates to tell him such. 

Both Shiro and Keith hate Branko for quite a few reasons. Overall, the man’s snide, stubborn, and cruel- perfect traits for a subordinate of Sendak. The main reason they both hate him, however, is-

“Nice pair of legs she has.” Branko licks his flat lips slowly, not even bothering to hide the disgusting lust on his face.

Shiro immediately turns his body so that the soldier’s rear isn’t so prominent in the air. Not for the first time this week, Keith wants to bash Branko’s face in. They may be handing her off to Haggar but at least with the witch they don’t have to worry about her being violated. Haggar doesn’t need to stoop so low to extort information or money out of people. Shiro glares icily at the man, “Where is Haggar?”

“Lady Haggar sent me up here to retrieve the girl.” Branko says, moving closer to Shiro, “Give her to me.” He holds out his hands and makes a grossly playful squeeze at the air. 

Shiro’s nose scrunches in disgust, “Either she comes for the soldier herself or we release her.”

Branko’s face falls into a furious scowl, “You dare question Lady Haggar?”

“You heard me.”

The gangster stares at Keith and Shiro for a moment longer, knowing damn well neither will budge but trying his hardest to intimidate them into doing so. He gives up pretty quickly and heads towards a door leading to a stairwell near the back of the greeting room, “Fine! But if she gets angry, it’s on you!”

“I’ll live with that.” Shiro replies evenly.

Branko disappears and all is silent for a few minutes. Shiro and Keith make quick eye contact and then look to the soldier in unison. 

Keith speaks first, “What do you think Haggar is going to do to her?”

“Hm,” Shiro shrugs his unoccupied shoulder, “beat her until she coughs up the money?”

“You know Haggar doesn’t do lowly jobs like that. She would’ve had someone like Branko here do it, not send  _ us  _ to get her.”

“You saw how she fought, Keith. Branko would’ve been killed. We’re the only ones she could trust to not fuck this up.” Shiro glances at the door then back at Keith, “But you’re right. Haggar doesn’t do grunt jobs.”

“Yea and don’t you think it’s a little weird? How well this woman can fight?” Keith peers into the woman’s limp face, “She was much more disciplined than any inner-city soldier. The guys around here haven’t ever seen the front lines but she fought like she was born there.”

“Yeah.” Shiro responds, “Quiet down, they’re coming.”

There are slow footsteps and the drag of fabric across metal heading up the stairs. At the door appears a short, spindly woman cloaked in deep purple, her tanned face marred with twin scars down her harsh amber eyes. They flit austerely across the three in the room before settling their cold starkness on Shiro. 

Her thin, scarred lips pull back into a chilling smile, “Shiro. Keith. My favorite dogs.” Her voice is rough and hoarse as if her throat is full of dusty cobwebs. It sends a shiver down their spines.

Shiro bows his head in respectful greeting, Keith swiftly doing the same and keeping his eyes deadlocked on the witch cautiously. Shiro speaks curtly, “Lady Haggar. We brought the soldier as you requested.”

“So I see.” Haggar’s smile drops into her usual flat mask, “Leave her.”

Shiro takes a knee and gently lowers the soldier to the ground, being careful to cradle her head as it connects silently with the metal flooring. He stands again and moves closer to Keith, side by side. Keith glances at the unconscious soldier. Her face is turned towards them so he can see her eyes moving behind their lids. She is not awake yet but will be soon.

The two men feel sympathy for her. If she survives she will not leave this place the same. Nobody ever does, Shiro himself included. His prosthetic metal fingers tighten into a fist at his side.

Haggar stares at the soldier without curiosity or interest. Those eyes never change. She looks back up to them, her face shadowed heavily by the purple hood of her cloak, “Leave this place.”

Shiro and Keith are about to do just that, firmly shutting away any pity they feel for the soldier, when the woman on the ground jerks awake. She is on her feet quicker than Shiro or Keith can react, her bright amber eyes alight with a terrified fire. 

She lifts her bloody fists, “Where am I?!” 

Shiro and Keith don’t answer, instead moving to either sides of the room to flank her. She is injured from their previous fight, her left leg slowing her with a worrisome limpness. Her face is bruised and the skin of her bare arms burnt and blistering in patches. It took quite a number to get her down. Keith still hesitates when he fights women, thus the blackened blossom of skin on his jaw. Shiro’s going to have to drill some gender equality into him or the idiot’s going to get killed someday. 

The soldier’s eyes jump to the front door and then to the door to the stairs. Haggar stands in front of the stairs, unmoving and almost disinterested in the woman’s struggles. Shiro and Keith move in closer and the soldier makes a decision. The very  _ wrong  _ decision.

Keith and Shiro would’ve just knocked her out again. Even with all her gracefulness and dignity, Haggar is still a beast as the end of the day. She likes to draw things out. 

The soldier assumes that an old woman will be easy to knock out of the way in the pursuit of freedom. She tries to pile drive her shoulder into Haggar but suddenly finds nothing there. The momentum has her teetering forward and for a split second, it looks as though she will fall down the stairs.

However, Haggar is at her side in an instant. The soldier is heaved into the air like a rag doll in Haggar’s clawed hands. The witch’s blackened nails dig ferociously into the soldier’s neck, each drawing a pinprick of blood and a pained sound. She stares blankly into the soldier’s face.

“Such tenacity. You will make a fine jewel of my collection.” Says Haggar.

The soldier chokes brutally and claws the best she can at the spider fingers around her throat. Tears build in her eyes as they flicker to Keith and Shiro. She gives a choked sob, “H-help...me…!”

Then Haggar releases her grip and the soldier collapses, down down down the stairs into an unknown, terrible darkness.

There is a distant  _ thud!  _ as the soldier’s body hits the bottom of the stairs. Shiro looks away from the scene towards the ground. He takes a breath and then lifts his eyes to Haggar again. She stares at the two of them silently. Her robes are smooth as if she had never moved in the first place.

“Who is she?” Asks Shiro.

Haggar blinks, “That is hardly your concern. You did your duties. Now leave before one of you takes her place in my laboratory.”

The threat is as real as the prosthetic arm attached to Shiro’s shoulder. He turns briskly on his heel and grabs Keith by the shoulder roughly, dragging the younger towards the door. Keith doesn’t fight back. He knows better when Shiro’s expression screams the traumatic memories he harbors. He can’t help it, though, as Shiro’s hand slips into his own once they’re outside of the warehouse and away from Haggar’s vacant gaze. He can’t help glancing back and dreading the unmistakable horrors he knows the soldier is about to experience.

“Something worse than what we think is happening in there.” Shiro mutters to Keith, sweat glistening on his brow, “Haggar being there personally said it all. She wasn’t even there for the experiments done on me most of the time.”

Keith stares at him, shocked that Shiro so easily brought up his past without any prompting. He swallows, an explosive mixture of guilt, apprehension, and terror brewing within him, “How bad?”

Shiro grits his teeth, his fiery gaze narrowed into a determination Keith had never seen before, “Bad enough that we need to figure out what it is. And even bad enough to call in an old friend for help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, it was fun! More flashbacks next chapter, basically the second part to this. Then back to the present with Lance <3  
>  **I now have a P*treon.** The different tiers include exclusive drabbles that fit into this story and into my other stories, both SFW and NSFW one shots only found there, requests, and even personalized stories written JUST for YOU. If these things strike your fancy, go to my [tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/ronswansoneatsmyass) You can find the link there in my blog!  
>  Thanks for all the support! See you next time :)


	26. Aqua seafoam shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What else could I write_  
>  _I don't have the right_  
>  _What else should I be_  
>  _All apologies."_  
>  \- Nirvana, _All Apologies_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNINGS: underaged prostitution (not explicit), violence, minor character death**

**ONE WEEK PRIOR TO KEITH AND SHIRO’S ARREST**

Two weeks of inconspicuous investigation discover a common trend: nobody knows what Haggar’s up to in the old warehouse downtown. Every possible clue leads nowhere fast, nothing but brick wall after brick wall in the shape of corpses and ignorance. Shiro tries to recall his days trapped in Haggar’s cells, having been punished for misdeeds, but his memory is too foggy. It’s difficult to push past the blinding pain and remember anything of substance to them. Keith is quick to encourage him to stop prodding at his trauma so carelessly for both their sake. 

They receive a blessing in disguise at the beginning of the third week after the warehouse incident. Sendak, Haggar’s chief and the only person who could possibly match her authority, visits the Fire Nation Capital from his usual post in the Earth Kingdom. He’s in charge of operations there, from drug trafficking to ransom kidnappings and everything in between. He comes with a load of fresh meat ready to pledge their lives to Haggar and enough drugs to overdose the whole city into seizures. 

The man is big, bigger than Shiro and three times as scary looking. One of his eyes is replaced with a flat metal plate with no effort made to save what little humanity he had left in his face. He has huge black sideburns leading into a messy beard, and his arms and legs are so big they might as well be tree trunks. The other gangsters make serious effort to stay as far out of the man’s way as possible. 

Shiro and Keith are in the Galra headquarters when he arrives. He ignores all others and approaches Shiro first, his lips pulled into a ghastly grin.

“Shiro.” He greets in a deep timbre, “You look well.”

Eyes and face flawlessly blank, Shiro responds, “Thank you. How’s the Earth Kingdom treating you?” He tilts his body every slight so that his left shoulder is between Keith and Sendak.

Sendak doesn’t bother with Keith, not even dignifying the other with a glance, “It’s beautiful there. It’ll be even more beautiful when the conquest is complete.”

Shiro stays silent, neither agreeing or disagreeing. 

Unperturbed, the other continues, “Is Branko around? I have need of him.”

“He’s out tormenting women, I’m sure.”

“Ha-ha!” Sendak guffaws roughly, bright white teeth flashing animalistically, “As I thought. I’ll check his usual dive.” He turns with a wave and exits the building.

Shiro waits only a moment before leaning down to whisper in Keith’s ear, “We’re following him.”

“Naturally.” Keith smiles.

.

.

.

Trailing Sendak takes them to a local teahouse along the open bay of Capital Harbor. It’s not so much infamous for its tasty teas or food as it is for the whorehouse that it fronts for. Prostitution isn’t illegal in the Fire Nation but pimping out underaged whores is. This particular brothel is in tight cahoots with the Galra Gang so they escape that particular law. In exchange for protection from cops and crazies, the gangsters can ask for services practically whenever they want. Nobody in the brothel will stand up to anyone in the gang if they value their life, either. It guarantees free reign for the Galra over the prostitutes inside. Keith pities those too weak and disenfranchised to escape such a terrible life.

Shiro, Keith, and Lance visit this place once a month. Not to take part in the illicit activities but to check in on a few people they know who work there. Those connections and friendships they forged with the prostitutes will surely benefit them today. 

They watch as Sendak ducks under the low hanging lilac curtain over the door and disappears inside. Approaching the side alley of the shop, the two men share a look. Keith has a questioning expression on his face and gestures to the front. Shiro holds up his pointer finger to signal the other to wait and pulls him into the alley with him. He leads Keith along the side to a another door and knocks three times.

A few seconds pass before the door opens. A young girl, no older than fourteen, stands in the doorway, her long brown hair pulled into a pretty braid cascading down her right shoulder. Her cheekbone is bruised a fresh angry red yet she smiles anyways, dipping into a quick bow.

Shiro grins at her, “Hello Meirong.” 

“Hi.” Keith says as he bows respectfully in response.

She claps her hands together and bobs her head excitedly before reaching out to them. She grabs a hand in both, holding them affectionately. Her gaze jumps around them and her face falls slightly.

“Sorry,” Keith grunts, “we couldn’t bring Lance.”

Accepting that, she cocks her head towards the inside in obvious question.

“We didn’t come to hang out with you today, unfortunately,” Shiro says, “we need a favor.”

Meirong purses her lips curiously. She glances behind her cautiously before turning back to them with a nod.

“Two Galra are meeting here. We need to listen in on them without being noticed.”

She blinks,  _ who? _

“Branko and Sendak.”

Meirong drops their hands and begins to shake her head furiously, her pretty face paling as the color drains rapidly from it. She clutches her palms to her chest as she stares at them fearfully.

“Please Meirong,” Shiro says as he takes a step forward. He takes her shoulders in a gentle, warm grip and eyes her pleadingly, “they’re doing something awful, I know it. I need to find out what.”

She hesitates, staring into his eyes with an unnerving terror.

Keith speaks up, moving to Shiro’s side to softly say, “Branko hit you, didn’t he?” Biting her bottom lip, Meirong looks away, the only answer they need. He scowls, “If you help us, that sack of shit won’t ever touch you or any of the others again.”

Her fingers twitch against each other, a nervous tick. Shiro rubs her shoulders as an older brother would, calm and caring. She finally cracks and nods shallowly, her watery amber gaze flickering up to their’s. 

Shiro smiles happily down at her, “Thank you, Meirong. I swear, Keith and I will protect you no matter what.”

Meirong’s small face erupts into a delighted, trusting grin as she grabs Shiro’s prosthetic hand and drags him inside. Keith follows suit, keeping tight to his lover’s heels. The girl takes a sharp right at the end of the hallway, leading them up a set of servant stairs near the back of the building. They come across a few maids, none of which even look up from the floor as they pass assuming that they’re just two more patrons of Meirong’s. 

They climb to the fourth floor of the teahouse where the prostitutes primarily throw parties for customers. When they pass a lacquer sliding door, she gestures towards it wildly. That must be where Sendak and Branko are. Instead of stopping, she pulls them into the next room over.

Meirong sticks by the door to guard Keith and Shiro as they move closer to the thin paper wall separating them from their targets. Through the intricate wall art of wise lion turtles and plush golden flowers, they can easily listen in on their conversation.

They have arrived in the middle of Sendak speaking, the man’s startling baritone carrying its familiar edge, “...good care of it. I still have no idea why Lady Haggar trusts an idiot like you. You’re more likely to have the stuff stolen from you by some whore with where your mind’s at.”

Branko chuckles as if Sendak isn’t completely serious in his insults, “Ha! You aren’t questioning Lady Haggar, Sendak…?”

“Do  _ not  _ insinuate that I ever would, else I’ll break your fat neck right here and have the whores toss you into the bay.”

“Ha-ha!” A more nervous laugh now, “My apologies. I never meant any harm. I have the utmost loyalty for Lady Haggar and the Galra way, that’s all. Never hurts to ask.”

“Well it will in this case, remember that, fool. Making me track you down to this hellhole, what’s wrong with you?”

The two men fall silent as someone knocks on the door to their room. Shiro and Keith listen as an older woman offers drinks before swiftly retreating. Sendak and Branko are quiet for a moment longer, most likely waiting for the woman to leave, until Branko continues the conversation.

“I didn’t know when you would return.”

“Do you realize how important this is? Or do you want to end up the same as that soldier girl?”

Shiro and Keith share a startled look, wide eyes filled with shock and guilt. 

Branko sounds apprehensive now, “Of course I know how important this is! I never- er, I’ll deliver the vial, okay?”

“Omashu, no later than two weeks. Even you can manage it.” Sendak snaps, “There’s plenty of political and war prisoners there to test the serum on.”

_ Serum?  _ Keith mouths at Shiro.

“Maybe they’ll even test it on that crazy king.” Branko jokes darkly, “I’ll get it there, you have my word.”

“As if that means much.” They hear shuffling as Sendak rises and moves towards the door.

Branko calls after him, “Not going to finish your baijiu?”

“Unlike you, I detest the cheapness of whorehouse alcohol. Have fun with your pitiable conquests.”

“Heh,” Branko scoffs, “cheers, then.”

The door to the other room slides open as Sendak steps out. Meirong presses her index finger to her lips towards Shiro and Keith until the sounds of his footsteps fade into the distance. She then looks to them with a raised eyebrow.

Keith and Shiro rise slowly, being cautious not to alert the man in the other room. They come to stand next to Meirong.

“Serum, huh?” Shiro whispers.

“Yeah,” Keith says just as softly, a slow, menacing smirk growing on his face, “you know, I always wanted to beat the shit out of Branko.”

Shiro returns the smirk with a wild grin of his own, all bright white teeth with a pink tongue clenched between them, “Looks like it’s your lucky day, baby.” He turns to Meirong, “Mind sticking with us a bit longer? Just to keep watch?”

Meirong nods, and even though she looks nervous as all hell, her eyes carry a fiery determination and a deep-rooted fury. There’s no one in this room who wants to see Branko bleed than her.

“That’s what I like to see,” Shiro presses a quick kiss of gratitude to the top of the kid’s head, “go grab your pipa, huh? Play it outside the door, real loud for me.”

She nods and opens the door to their room, darting out and quickly down the hall. Shiro and Keith step out into the hallway silently and wait for her. Once she returns with a beautifully decorated pipa in hand, the two step in front of the door. Meirong takes a seat beside the door frame, balancing her instrument across her knees. After a nod from Shiro, she begins to pluck away at the strings.

Keith opens the door to Branko’s room abruptly and the two march inside. He then closes the door behind him, shooting a grateful look towards Meirong before the lacquer slides into place. By the time he turns back around, Shiro has already crossed the room and clamped a heavy hand around the bottom of Branko’s terrified face.

Shiro drags him by both the face and neck to the middle of the room. Keith idly draws closer, fingers already itching as a familiar energy zips through his excited heart beneath his ribcage. He can’t wait to get his hands on Branko- break a few bones.

Branko screeches behind the meat of Shiro’s palm, unable to make any real noise. Shiro’s grip tightens around his neck and his face goes insanely red as his eyes widen in fear.

“Two things are going to happen here,” Shiro murmurs over the playing of the pipa outside, “first, you’re going to pay for the girls you’ve beaten. Then, you’re going to tell us everything you known about this  _ serum  _ Sendak’s given to you.”

With an expression of mortified horror and shame, Branko begins fruitless cries for help as the first blows reign down on his face. 

 

* * *

 

**PRESENT DAY**

 

“It didn’t take much to squeeze the information out of Branko.” Shiro says.

Keith scoffs by his side, “Yeah, and here he was, gloating about how loyal to the witch he was. All it took was me breaking two of his fingers and he gave in. Fucking pussy.”

Lance blinks, trying to absorb the monumental amount of information he has received thus far. To give himself some time to think on things a bit further, he gives a playful laugh at Keith’s comment, “Oh? And what would it take to get info out of you, hm?”

“If it’s concerning someone I really care about,” The firebender says, tone dead serious and violet eyes dark with it, too, “you’d end up killing me first.”

Lance fidgets in his seat, interlocking his fingers together and tearing his gaze away from Keith’s.  _ Oh man, oh man.  _ He looks back at Shiro, “What did he tell you?”

“Haggar calls the serum  _ quintessence.  _ According to Branko and what he’d seen, it’s an extremely powerful drug that has two capabilities.” Shiro holds up one finger, “One, it completely neutralizes whatever synapses are in charged of physical feeling. Meaning on it, you wouldn’t feel pain, pleasure, heat, cold- nothing.”

He holds up a second finger, “And two, it drives its user completely insane after long enough exposure. Too many doses and you’re a brainless killing machine. You know nothing but anger and violence. Branko said the one time he saw someone doped up on quintessence was enough to give him nightmares for years.”

“Spirits….” Lance breathes, his stomach going sick at the thought. 

“We got the serum from him, alright.” Says Keith, “Then we made good on Sendak’s threat.”

Lance’s heart gives a jump. He obviously knows how many men they’ve killed, and he knows personally how awful a man Branko was, but he still can’t help but get a little upset about it. Not like he himself is much better. He’s beaten enough people half to death that he probably caused a few real ones down the line. 

Keith continues, “Shiro made contact with Matt a few days prior. He was on his way the second Shiro got word to him that the Galra might be a front for a weapons dealer. We were going to give him the serum and then flee the country.” He smiles at Lance, “And we were going to take you with us, even if we had to drag you kicking and screaming.”

“Luckily for us at the time, it didn’t look like we would need to resort to that.” Shiro says, his tone suddenly flat and solemn. Keith picks up on it and his face falls into darkness. “The night we were going to tell you the plan and get ready, you already had a plan of your own, right?”

The color drains from Lance’s face. That’s the night he…. The waterbender curls in on himself, trying his best to keep his expression level, “O-oh...that was...when I….”

“When you came and told us you wanted to run away as soon as possible. The very next night, even.” Keith finishes for him quite bluntly. Then again, he’s never been the one to beat around the bush like Lance does, “We were ecstatic. No explanation, no forcing you, you wanted to leave yourself. We even figured you settled things with your family if you were going to leave. It’s funny, you loved your family so much. Looking back, it should have been more obvious to us.”

There’s no accusation in either Keith or Shiro’s voices but Lance feels trapped anyways. He shoots to his feet and scowls at the other two men, “Why didn’t you tell me about it?! The serum?! Haggar?!”

“We were!” Shiro cuts in, “Before you told us you wanted to escape from the capital, we were ready with a full explanation for what we did and what was going to happen. We were going to tell you everything. But then we didn’t really  _ need  _ to.”

“ _ Didn’t need  _ to?!”

“Lance!” Keith barks, also standing up and moving closer to him, “If we told you, you’d automatically be in on it. Do you know how dangerous it was to know about it? If they caught us on the run, they’d stop at killing you. Shiro and I? We’d be Haggar’s. We weren’t willing to take the risk of you knowing too much and it fucking you over.”

The waterbender clenches his teeth but finds no rebuttal. He crosses his arms almost petulantly at his broad chest and looks away. 

Shiro stands as well, taking a spot between them to act as a buffer between the two hotheads. He frowns at them, “Calm down, you two. We came here to clear misunderstandings, not to fight.”

With a long suffering sigh, Lance sits back down on the stool by the cell door. He crosses his legs and grunts, “What was Haggar planning to do with it?”

“Sell it to the Fire Lord, most likely.” Shiro answers as he forces Keith to sit back down again, “The position as a chief biochemical weapons scientist for the Fire Lord would hold a vast array of power for Haggar. Surely she lusted for it.”

“What happened to the serum you two had?”

“It was lost,” Keith says, “when we were arrested. One of the officers stepped on the vial by accident.” He chuckles humorlessly, “I’m sure Haggar was furious. It was the only working sample she had, after all.”

Lance shakes his head with strange amusement. The trio goes quiet for a moment as the reality of it sinks in. In the corner, Lance comes to a terrible realization.

“You really weren’t expecting my hand in your arrests?” He asks dumbly.

“Uh?” Keith raises an eyebrow incredulously, “Of course we fucking didn’t.”

“Yeah, sorry, dumb question-” Lance is obviously distracted as he stares distantly at the drab grey metal flooring, “-so if I hadn’t...we could have gotten the sample to Matt, who could have gotten it to the White Lotus.”

“Theoretically, if Matt survived the trip.” Shiro says, leaning forward, “What are you getting at?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Shiro?” Lance’s voice wavers dangerously, his hands and knees begin to shake. He thinks of his old friends in the Northern Water Tribe. He recalls the sun glinting off the never ending dunes of snow, the happy chortle of nearby gatherings of penguins- blue eyed, tanned skin, bright smiling people dressed in blues and greys. He swallows but discovers there’s no saliva in his mouth to make the motion worthwhile, “If I hadn’t betrayed you two, that would’ve happened.”

Shiro’s eyes widen as he realizes exactly what Lance is getting at. He darts forward with a hand outstretched as if to touch him, “Lance, no-”

“I may be the sole reason the Fire Nation wins this war.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay langst! :)  
> Lots of langst to come, oh boy. Can Shiro and Keith make him feel better? Or maybe I should have Hunk comfort him? I always get off track and end up writing a LOT of Lance and Hunk friendship....it happened a LOT with my other story.  
> anyways, hope you enjoyed this plot development! actual plot, yay! hopefully smut next?? or at LEAST a hug??? i love slow burns, you guys, I'm sorry. One of my favorite klance fics is over 200k and Keith and Lance don't even TALK to each other until 150k....I love that sort of shit, stories that can stand alone without romance  
> well, this one's built on a romantic subplot but you know what i mean  
> ANYWAYS **I have a P*treon!** On there, you can read exclusive shorts from this fic (YES! NSFW INCLUDED!), drabbles I write, and even get PERSONALIZED oneshots made JUST FOR YOU having just about WHATEVER YOU WANT in it! Starts off at just $3 a month! What a DEAL!   
>  Check out my tumblr, I have multiple links to it on there!  
> Until next time, toodles!


	27. I said I love you and I swear I still do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Never made it as a wise man_  
>  _I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing_  
>  _Tired of living like a blind man_  
>  _I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling_  
>  _And this is how you remind me."_  
>  -Nickelback, _How You Remind Me_

Lance’s head is in his hands, his long fingers spread across his face to hide away his distraught expression. As he’s prone to do when he’s upset, he’s hunched himself tight, tucking his elbows to his gut as if that could keep the guilt from eating him alive. His voice is muffled but in the intimate confines of Shiro and Keith’s shared cell it’s the loudest thing in the world.

“ _ It’s my fault. _ ” Mutters Lance.

Shiro and Keith can only stare in shock at the turn of events. They hadn’t meant to have Lance hurting like this- this wasn’t the intention of revealing this secret to him. They only wanted to include him, use yet another thread to bind him to them with a sudden shared past...not push him to fold in on himself in shame. Looking back, this should’ve been more obvious given Lance’s natural kindness and susceptibility to gut-wrenching guilt. Shiro curses himself under his breath. He should’ve seen this coming, should’ve thwarted it somehow.

Then again, maybe that wouldn’t have even been possible. Lance already felt terrible for betraying them before this, no matter how many times Keith and Shiro barked at him to just  _ let it go,  _ so this is just natural. Hell, it might even be necessary to move on. As much as Shiro wants to protect Lance from these harsh emotions of shame and despair, he knows better than anyone that it’s darkest before the dawn.

His hand is still outstretched towards Lance, having halted in the air more so in shock than out of respect for Lance’s space. He glances at Keith to find the other staring helplessly at the waterbender. Shiro would laugh if the moment wasn’t so serious. Keith’s never been good with comforting others when they’re upset. Far too awkward and shitty at his  _ own  _ emotions to offer much assistance. Looks like Shiro will have to take the reigns as the eldest of them until Keith can snap out of his daze.

Lance says, “You two would’ve  _ done  _ something, you two would’ve made a  _ change.  _ You probably would’ve even stopped Haggar!” His tone turns painfully amused, hollow yet furious all the same, “I played right into her hands! She didn’t give a shit about protecting the gang- she only wanted to protect  _ herself  _ because she knew- she fucking  _ knew  _ you two would’ve-” He cuts himself off with a disdainful shake of his head.

“Lance…,” Shiro murmurs softly, his voice light and solemn sweet, “...Lance, will you look at me?”

But Lance is too ashamed. He continues, voice rising as he goes, “I  _ helped  _ that fucking bitch, I  _ helped  _ her! I wanted to rip her throat out but I  _ helped  _ her!”

“Lance.” Shiro tries again, this time making his tone rougher to convey his seriousness. He hesitates putting his hands on Lance, worried that he might send the waterbender running for the hills. 

“She  _ tricked  _ me! I-I-” 

And suddenly, Lance breaks down into shaky sobs.

Shiro’s heart clenches and his stomach tightens as the sound of choked tears interrupts the tense atmosphere of the cell. Keith takes a shuddering breath beside him and jerks forward like a puppet, his strings held firmly by the quaking line of Lance’s shoulders. He clambers to his knees on the ground before Lance, a confused and almost terrified expression on his face. Shiro can share the sentiment. They have seen Lance cry out of frustration, out of happiness, when he’d been overwhelmed and shaky between their lustful hands- but never this. Never out of regret and sadness. 

“My-m-m-my  _ brethren- _ ” Lance chokes, his fingers curving into claws and digging into his numb face, “-they’re  _ dead  _ because of me-”

Keith’s arms hang uselessly at his sides. Shiro moves closer, also going to his knees on the floor in front of Lance at Keith’s side. 

“No, Lance,” Shiro rumbles in the gentlest coo his deep voice can manage without sounding ridiculous, “no-”

Lance’s head snaps up. Both Shiro and Keith suck in a shocked breath at the expression they see there. His big blue eyes swim with haunting misery and his taunt lips twist into a sallow, defeated grimace. Those baby blues cut like knives into Keith and Shiro, each heavy tear yet another blow. Lance heaves another weep, abruptly throwing himself forward towards the two men. 

Shiro and Keith have little time to react before Lance is suddenly prostrating on the floor at their knees. If Keith hadn’t been so close the poor man would’ve bashed his forehead into the metal flooring. Instead his head rests against Keith’s left knee, his hands clenched into fists below his face. The stool is shoved loudly to the side in his haste to bow. They stare incredulously down at him.

“I’m sorry!” Lance cries, “I-if I ju-just  _ talked  _ to you- it’s all my fault I’m  _ sor-r-r-y- _ ” 

And Keith’s had well enough. The firebender jumps into immediate action by grabbing Lance’s shoulders and hauling him upwards. Lance’s unfounded apologies are cut off with a surprised gasp as Keith crushes him to his broad, warm chest, one hand moving to tuck against the nape of Lance’s neck and the other splaying flat against his back. Lance’s legs are forced to accommodate Keith’s thighs by parting and falling limply beside them. His arms are trapped between their chests, his fingertips blunting against the fast beat of Keith’s nervous heart. 

“Shut up!” Keith snarls into Lance’s hair, “Just stop it, okay?!” 

Lance is properly quieted by both the unforeseen embrace and the pleading tone underlying Keith’s voice. Even though his tears still flow a sticky mess down his flushed cheeks, his sobbing has ceased, if not out of sheer surprise. “Ke-Keith…?”

“I wasn’t your fault. None of it ever was.” 

Another pair of hands daintily comfort him by brushing light as a feather across his spine as he realizes Shiro has moved behind him. Usually he would be apprehensive about being trapped between them but, and it must be his heightened emotions speaking, the caging presence is quite reassuring. The eldest of the three murmurs, “Keith, gently.”

Keith exhales heavily but his crushing embrace eases at Shiro’s command. His thumb rubs soothingly into the hot skin of Lance’s exposed neck as he continues, “Shiro and I knew what the stakes were. You were tricked just as we were.”

Lance’s spine stiffens so Shiro applies more pressure to keep him in Keith’s arms without force. He now presses his full palms across Lance’s face, tracing the ridges of his spine and the sinew of his muscle. Shiro says, “Don’t you get it, Lance? Haggar used all of us. She got the better of us.”

Lance’s fingers curl into the fabric of Keith’s shirt, his tears finally slowing and everything begins to make sense. 

“We’re equals, Lance. There’s no need to be sorry, there’s no need to be afraid. We’re  _ one and the same. _ ”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, Lance pulls back from Keith’s chest. He experiences some resistance but Keith is quick to relent and give him more space to speak. With his hands perched on Keith’s pectorals, Lance turns to stare at Shiro. The firebender leans to the left to make it easier on Lance to peer over at him, a breezy smile on his plush lips. 

“Y-you...” Lance swallows, “you mean it?”

Shiro chuckles softly, affectionately, and nods, “Of course. Keith?”

Keith nods quickly, perhaps a bit too excitedly, “Yeah, Lance, we don’t blame you or hate you, for any of it. We did what we had to do, and you did what you had to do.”

The waterbender fidgets for a moment before dropping his eyes, suddenly shy and seemingly worn out from all that crying. A small, bashful quirk of his lips makes Shiro and Keith’s stomachs flutter as he says absently, “The same….”

Suddenly he stiffens again, wet eyes going wide with an abrupt realization. He snatches his hands back from Keith’s chest with a flustered expression.

Keith’s eyebrow rises, “You good?”

“Uh-I-” 

“He finally realized he’s sitting in your lap.” Shiro fills them in, his smile morphing into a teasing grin.

Keith’s expression goes from concerned to dastardly in less than a second. Lance groans, feigning annoyance even though his embarrassment is clear as day across his reddened cheekbones and shaky fingers. Keith leans forward into Lance’s space, “You can stay as long as you like.”

The waterbender gapes, face now completely red and tears long gone. Then he jerks upwards, “I’m out of here.”

The other two men laugh and stand with him, now either at eye level or towering over him. He stands nervously between them and wipes at his eyes to clear away any evidence. 

Shiro drapes an arm over Lance’s shoulder, still grinning that jokester smile, “What’s the rush, sweetheart?”

Feeding off of Shiro’s flirtation and Lance’s obvious fluster, Keith leans in closer, his fingertips brushing against Lance’s arm, “Stay.” He’s blunt and tactless as always but Lance has always been weak to this trait of his.

Heart raging like a rabbit freed from its cage, Lance roughly rips himself away from them while shouting, “Don’t joke like that!” He escapes to the entrance of the cell with a angry glare leveled their way.

Shiro raises his hands placatingly, any and all teasing erased from his expression. Keith, too, looks chastised. 

“Just-” Lance hisses, torn between anger and embarrassment, “-don’t do that.”

“I’m very sorry, Lance, it was a bad joke with shitty timing.” Shiro answers apologetically. Keith nods, too ashamed to say anything.

Their puppy dog expressions make Lance sigh. He crosses his arms with a frown, “No- sorry, I overreacted. It’s just….” He glances up at them and then away, pursing and unpursing his lips nervously, “...well, I just haven’t,  _ you know... _ since you guys...and, uhm, it’s a bit much.”

Shiro’s eyes widen as his heart, unbidden, practically soars. 

“Wait,  _ at all? _ ” Keith interjects, appearing a strange mixture of both surprised and delighted, “ _ Loverboy Lance  _ didn’t hook up at all?”

Lance’s gaze narrows dangerously, his face growing petulant, “I didn’t  _ want  _ to, okay?! Shut up, stop smiling Shiro!”

Shiro hadn’t even realized his face had broken out into a sunny, mega-watt grin. He tries to stifle it but finds it near impossible as Lance continues to shout angrily at them. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just-”

“ _ Stop smiling! _ ”

“You,” Keith breathes, “have no idea how great that is.”

“Oh like  _ you two  _ haven’t slept around in the past two years.”

“No, actually. Nobody can ever replace you.” Shiro cuts through the light atmosphere, his expression dead serious and gaze heavy on Lance. 

The waterbender squirms beneath Shiro’s sudden stare and turns away with a haughty huff, “Whatever! Forget I said anything! If you bring this up again, I’ll gut you both!”

“Oh it’s  _ so  _ coming up again, loverboy.” Keith snickers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was actually finished and posted two days ago on my P*treon, and so will an exclusive 300 word NSFW drabble set in this story's universe today. lots of goodies to be had there....*cough my user is ripvanklance cough*  
> anyways  
> thanks for reading as usual! I am excited to be putting more romance into this story now. there will be more, i swear.   
> Lance still thinks little of himself, even though they made him feel better, and it's gonna take some hot hot lovin to get it through his thick skull, eh?  
> stay tuned! finals are almost done and i will be able to focus on this instead of the 45 page screenplay i have to write by thursday!  
> peace out.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@ronswansoneatsmyass](https://ronswansoneatsmyass.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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